L Voldemort  L version
by Lady Mirelle
Summary: When Tom Riddle and L Lawliet switch lives, as a spell goes wrong, what will happen to the two of them? L version - what happens to L as he strives to survive and succeed through Hogwarts?
1. Prologue

L-Voldemort (L version)

Authors note: This will be a long-running story, hopefully, which I'll try to update as often as possible. This is the first of two entitled L-Voldemort, the seond of which will be Voldemort version, in which a teenaged Tom Riddle will end up in L's world. To start with, what would happen if a curse went awry and switched the most evil wizard in history and the most brilliant detective in the world?

Prologue

Tom Riddle, a young boy in an orphanage in England, knew nothing of his strange powers until he turned eleven. He knew he could make strange things happen, but he did not know that he was a wizard. Nor did he know of the impact he would have on the entire wizarding community. It was not that this Tom Riddle would grow up to be a fearsome wizard in this world, but that he would bring the most brilliant mind to exist into this world. But he could not know this now. No, he was a young boy. But the night Dumbledore came to see him, everything changed.

The greying wizard had been to tell Tom about Hogwarts, a magical school for children as special as Tom to learn about their powers. But Tom thought hard that night. If he could control his powers, why should he not try to make a spell right now? Why wait until this Hogwarts place could teach him, if he could make one up himself?

Tom Riddle made sure everyone else was in bed. He crawled under the covers of his own bed, and held his hands out, palm up. He muttered a stream of nonsense, in the hope that something would trigger his magical powers. Nothing happened. Tom grew angry. He snarled.

Suddenly, a bright white flash illuminated him, and he was being pulled from all directions. With a sickening crunch, he disappeared.

Somewhere in England, in another world, in an orphanage, a young boy lay awake on his bed, unable to sleep for the many thoughts that buzzed through his brain. Dark bags lined his eyes, giving him a perpetual air of boredom. He lay back on the pillow, tucking his legs up so his knees pointed to the ceiling, and heaved a sigh.

With a suddenness that left no time for the boy to wonder what was going on, a sickening feeling gripped him, and he felt as though he was being pulled from all sides. A bright light seemed to be emitting from his skin, and with the flash of light, he was gone.

Photos of Tom Riddle faded, to be replaced by pictured of a young Japanese boy.

Photos of a young Japanese boy faded to be replaced by those of Tom Riddle.

And so, the two lives swapped, and though the boys' memories remained intact, their powers, and destinies, became twisted and mixed together.

The young Japanese boy found himself in a strange room, with strange furniture and an odd smell. He looked around, afraid.

On the bedside table, there was a cream envelope with a red wax seal and bottle-green lettering. He picked it up, in the hope that it would have the address on it. This would give him some sort of clue as to his location.

"Mr L Lawliet,

Attic Room,

Stockwell Orphanage,

London."

"At least I'm in England," the eleven-year-old L murmured, in Japanese.


	2. Chapter 1

L-Voldemort (L version)

Chapter 1 – In which L goes to Hogwarts.

"HOGWARTS SCHOOL  
of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore  
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,  
Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Mr. L Lawliet,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.  
Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall  
Deputy Headmistress."

L re-read the letter on the train to central London. After receiving the letter a few days ago (and being unable to figure out what on Earth had caused him to be transferred so suddenly from his own orphanage to a completely different one, and yet to still be known by everyone as though he'd lived there his entire life) he had written a reply, asking what Hogwarts/Witchcraft/a Mugwump was supposed to be. An owl had handily landed on his windowsill the moment he had finished. He tentatively gave the note to the owl, which took the message in its beak immediately and flew north, as though it had expected L to reply at this exact time.

Within a day, the owl had returned, at around three o'clock in the morning, with a reply, which read:

"Dear Mr L Lawliet,

Thank you for your reply.

Hogwarts is a school for young magical folk of the United Kingdom, teaching the main disciplines required to achieve success in the Wizarding world. You have been listed for a place at Hogwarts since your birth and are endowed with magical powers. For this reason, we stress the importance of your attendance, as you need to learn to control and develop your powers before you reach full maturity.

As you are not 'in the know', here are instructions and directions to Diagon Alley, where you can obtain the required books and equipment before beginning the journey to Hogwarts.

I hope you are now better informed and will reply with confirmation if your attendance.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall  
Deputy Headmistress."

L had remained confused, but was willing to go along with this. If it was a prank, it was too elaborate to not get involved. If it was true ... well, it was beyond thinking. He had sent the owl back with his reply and left the orphanage the next day - 1st Spetember.

* * *

The train arrived, and L disembarked. He walked out of the station, his posture comfortably hunched, with hands in his pockets. It took him a few minutes to walk to where The Leaky Cauldron was situated. Nobody was looking at the run-down public house as they walked past. Nobody noticed as he went through the doors into the dingy building. A few old men sat at the bar, but none turned round when he entered.

"Excuse me," L began. The barman looked up from his own glass.

"Diagon Alley, is it?" he replied.

"Yes sir. I've never been there before, you see," L continued, his English perfect, with only a trace of his Japanese accent. He calculated that manners would get him what he wanted, rather than familiarity. "I wonder if you could show me how to get there, please?"

"Of course!" the man chuckled, before leading L through a solid oak door into a courtyard. As he took out a piece of wood from his pocket, and tapped the bricks, he added, "It's not often these days you 'ear a young man such's yerself bein' so polite. Right rough scallywags they is, usually."

L resisted the urge to correct the man's grammar, as the bricks slid aside to form an archway. The boy's eyes widened in surprise. He pressed his forefinger delicately to his bottom lip.

"How did you do that?" he wondered aloud.

"Magic," the man replied with a rotten grin and a wink. "That there's Diagon Alley. You be askin' in any of the shops if you get lost."

"Thank you."

The man retreated back into his pub and L ventured forwards into the bustling street. The architecture looked medieval, but well-kept, and a large white stone building at the end seemed to be a bank.

"Gringotts," it said, above the door.

* * *

Having completed most of his shopping, L was starting to believe it all to be true. With shopping bags full of books with strange titles, school-age children with noses pressed against the glass of a window displaying a broomstick, a cage containing an owl hanging from his arm and a pocket full of golden wizard-money, he could hardly deny it. All that was left on his list was a wand.

He saw a small party of people his own age entering a shop called "Ollivander's - making wands since 382 BC" so he decided to try there first.

"Welcome," an elderly man smiled, to the children and L as they entered.

One by one, they tried a wand out. Almost every time, the man had picked out the right wand for the witch or wizard. One boy with black hair and glasses ended up blowing up a lamp, though. But on the third try, the shop owner chose the correct wand for him.

"There you go, Mr Potter," the wand man smiled, handing the wand - gift wrapped - to the young boy. L walked forward, hunched as usual, the owl cage still hanging from his forefinger and thumb. It was his turn.

"Hello there, I don't believe I know your name," Mr Ollivander stated, smiling as the young Asian boy stepped up to the counter.

"L", he replied. He was too tired to be polite to this kindly-seeming man.

"He's a good looking owl," the man continued, nodding towards the black owl inside the cage. "What's his name?"

"Light," L replied. "I'd like to buy a wand," he added, sharply.

"Of course, let me see what I can find," Mr Ollivander smiled, disappearing into the back of the shop.

"What a useless old coot," a voice snorted, behind L. He turned. A blond haired boy rolled his eyes and folded his arms. "Nicely handled." With a raised eyebrow and a half-smile he nodded at L.

"Thank you," L replied, "But who are you?"

"The name's Malfoy. Draco Malfoy."

"L Lawliet," L replied, holding out his hand as was customary in England when introducing oneself. The blond boy shook it. "Nice to meet you," L added, frostily.

"Ouch, a little cold, aren't we?"

"Just tired. Sorry."

"Forgotten," Malfoy shrugged. "Listen, I haven't seen you around before. You're not a Mudblood, are you?"

"I don't know what that is," L admitted.

"Born to Muggles."

"Muggles?"

"Oh lord, you don't even know what Muggles are? People without magical powers?"

"I don't remember my parents, but I have been down for Hogwarts since birth, if that helps."

"It does," Malfoy smiled, "Means you're Pureblood. Like me. Just raised in the Muggle world then, I suppose."

"I guess so," L nodded. "But what would be wrong with being Mudblood?"

"They're impure, not properly magical, so they're a bit inferior."

"I see. Thank you for the information. I'm just learning about this world, you see." He tried a smile at the other boy. It would be helpful to have a friend wizard, so he could fit in better. If he was to be schooled with these people, it would be useful to know at least one person.

There was only time for Malfoy to return the smile before Ollivander returned with a wand.

"Here we go, Mr L. 13 and a half inch yew with a phoenix feather core. Nice and supple." He handed it to L, who took it between the forefinger and thumb of his right hand. He swished it from side to side, the wood growing warm to the touch. His heart rate increased and he felt the desire to own this wand. Some black sparks exploded from the end of it.

"I did that ..." he muttered, turning the wand so that the tip touched his bottom lip. He looked up at Mr Ollivander with dark, questioning eyes.

"Yes you did. I think that wand is perfect for you, if you'll buy it. But I might point out that the phoenix, whose tail feather resides in your wand, gave another feather. Just one. That feather is at the heart of that boy's wand." He pointed to the boy with black hair and glasses. "Be careful, both of you, that your wands don't come too close into contact with each other."

"Yes sir," the glasses-boy nodded, wrinkling his nose so that his spectacles crept further up. Malfoy snorted. L just shrugged and slipped the wand into the pocket of his jeans. He paid for it, then departed from the shop.

"You should come with me to Platform nine and three quarters," Malfoy told L. "Seeing as you don't have anyone else with you." As he spoke, a blonde woman, clearly his mother, emerged from a shop across the road.

"Draco, come on. You don't want to miss the train," she trilled.

"Coming?"

L paused for a second. It would probably be beneficial to follow this boy, else he might get lost or miss the train, too.

"Okay."

* * *

The main thing L noticed about the other boy was his rudeness. He seemed very cold with his mother and looked down his nose at other people, it seemed, but L found this amusing more than offensive, and was beginning to become friends with him already. Malfoy's posture was good, suggesting confidence and a sense of superiority. L's own posture was growing worse as the day went on. He had his hands in his pockets, too, one hand resting lightly on his new wand, his arm looped through the owl cage and many shopping bags. He was glad to reach the station, where he knew a porter would gather his things and put them on the train for him.

When they arrived at platform ten, Mrs Malfoy told them to walk _through the wall_. With everything else that had gone on in the last few hours, L was inclined to trust her. He followed Draco through the wall, which was just like passing through thick air. Once on the hidden platform, the bright red train in view, L knew there was no going back to how life used to be. A good thing, surely, though he hoped he would one day find a way to return home.

"All aboard for Hogwarts!" someone shouted. All of the students clamoured to get onto the train. A whole gang of ginger haired children was boarding in front of L and Draco, with the black haired glasses-boy.

"Uh, Weasleys," Draco muttered. L gave him a questioning glance. "Purebloods, but too sympathetic to Muggles to be of any use to the wizarding world," Draco explained. L nodded. Despite Draco's sense of self-worth, L could relate to his point of view. As a "Muggle", L had been unable to contribute much to the world, in spite of his intellectual gifts. From a selfish point of view, Muggles were not useful to him. In addition to all of that, having magic made wizards much more powerful, with more potential, than non-magical people. Muggles had a sheltered knowledge of the world, half-knowing, not informed enough to be worth anything.

One of the ginger boys, who looked their age, turned to glare at Malfoy and L. The black haired glasses-boy (with vivid green eyes and a perfectly unblemished pale complexion, L noted) pushed his glasses further up his nose and muttered something to the ginger boy, who turned back to the train.

After boarding, sharing a compartment with Draco, two other boys named Crabbe and Goyle, and a girl named Pansy, L tucked his feet up onto the chair and leaned against the window, his forefinger poised between his lips. He scowled at the platform as it started to roll past the window. Draco and the others were talking quite loudly. He had no desire to join in the conversation, and slowly fell asleep.

* * *

"Hey, L, L. Wake up." It was the Malfoy boy, shaking L to wake him. L's eyes flickered open. They were met by two silver-grey eyes framed by blond lashes.

"What?"

"We're almost there, get your robes on."

"Oh." L shook the sleepy fog from his brain. As he changed, he wondered why he'd managed to fall asleep. He hadn't slept for at least a week and a half before today, the only insomniac in Wammy's House. Once in his robes - black with green trim - he looked around the compartment. The two other boys, Crabbe and Goyle, were eating jelly beans.

"Food, that's what I need ..." L murmured, in Japanese. Draco gave him a confused scowl. "Um ... Food, where can I get some food?" L repeated, in English this time.

"Food trolley-" Draco began, as the lady with the trolley appeared.

"Anything off the trolley, dears?"

"Tea, sugar cubes, five lollipops, chocolate," L instructed, without hesitating, pointing to each thing in turn. The chocolate came in the form of a small frog, so he bought a few of these. He sat down with a paper cup of piping tea, threw the sugar cubes in after stacking them into a tower on the window sill, and stirred them with one of the lollipops. He stuffed the other things into his robe pocket.

By the time he'd finished his tea, feeling more alert, the train had pulled up at the station. An excited stream of conversation bubbled around the train. They had arrived! Draco patted L on the arm, excitedly, his silver eyes flashing. His lips pulled back in an amiable grin.

"Come on!" he exclaimed, tugging on L's robe sleeve.

"Why are you so friendly with this guy already?" Pansy whined. "He's a freak."

"He's more interesting than you'll ever be," Draco snapped. "And he completely owned that old moron that sells wands. So shut the hell up and get off the bloody train."

Pansy shut up, and left the compartment. Crabbe chuckled, before leaving too. Draco's face was suddenly devoid of the happiness he'd just shown, his eyes now a stormy grey.

"Come on," he repeated, in a colder tone.

L jumped down from the chair and followed him. The others obviously held him in some kind of reverence. It seemed that his family was held in high esteem, and the boy himself was fiercely emotional and clearly passionate, if a little harsh. A good person to have on his side, L concluded.

On the busy platform, a large man called for the first years. In a haze of excitement that L had never felt before, they were led to a lake, which they rode across on magically-moving boats. Of course, he shared a boat with his new friend and a couple of other nameless children. The castle loomed closer, magnificent in the moonlight, the windows peering down at them with an eerie candle glow. Barely soon enough, they reached the shore, and were left outside the huge, ancient doors of the famous school. Draco gave him a fierce grin, which L returned involuntarily.

They had reached Hogwarts.


	3. Chapter 2

L-Voldemort (L version)

Chapter 2 – Sorted!

"Red hair, hand me down robes and a stupid complexion ... you must be a Weasley," Draco snorted, his nose turning up in disgust. L sighed. Draco really did seem proud of his heritage - L couldn't blame him, really. He himself was proud of his colourful background - and the thought of a family who encouraged Muggles and Mudbloods would seem disgusting to such a person.

Fists curled on both sides of the conversation. L pulled the last remaining lollipop from his pocket and held it out, between finger and thumb.

"Draco," he said, simply, flatly. The blond-haired boy turned and seemed to be fighting a smile. He took the lollipop and unwrapped it, popping it in his mouth and turning from the Weasley boy and the Potter boy.

They were lead into the Great Hall, packed with students sat at four long tables. Candles floated above them, delicately bobbing on an unseen current of air. The ceiling was dark, with storm clouds projected onto it somehow. All eyes were on the first-years, but more were on the odd Asian-looking, hunched over, messy-haired, dark-eye-bags boy, L Lawliet.

They were sat, one at a time, on a stool, and hat placed on their head, after the hat itself had spouted an entire song, about the four houses of Hogwarts. Apparently, Gryffindors were brave and good, Ravenclaws were intelligent and hard-working, Hufflepuffs were loyal and good finders, and Slytherins were cunning and would use any means to reach their goal.

"Slytherin sounds like me," L thought, absently, as he tried hard to see where the wires were, or perhaps how the mechanism inside moved, before he remembered - this was magic! It was difficult to keep his head around it.

Soon it was L's turn to put on the Sorting Hat. It slipped over his eleven-year-old eyes, as he perched on the stool in his precarious manner, one finger tucked under his top lip, the other hand resting on his knee.

"What an interesting mind," a voice whispered in his ear. "Not of this world. Very odd. Very interesting..." The Hat paused, as though thinking. "Well of course, you have the intelligence to be the greatest Ravenclaw ever seen, the bravery of ten average Gryffindors, enough cunning and drive to be a formidable Slytherin ..."

"What about the other house?" L asked, out loud. All eyes were fixed on him, replying clearly and loudly to the Hat's hidden voice.

"Your loyalty seems to be to yourself, though I dare say you'd be quite loyal to anyone if you had any reason to be. No, Hufflepuff is not for you, though your inquisitive mind would suit it well. Such a strange, alien mind. This is difficult. You know, of course, that this is not your world. The questions in your mind ... it's a wonder you haven't gone mad. Any lesser wizard would have. Your logic and reasoning are astounding. I can't decide where to put you ..."

The Hat paused for a long time, as though making its mind up. L's gaze fixed on Draco. Draco had said that his entire family had been in Slytherin. Draco would undoubtedly be Sorted into Slytherin. If he, L, were in Slytherin too, he could get closer to this blond, pointy-faced boy and perhaps learn more about the wizarding world, if it was true that Draco came from a pure-blood family.

"Knowledge is power," L added silently, "And I'll find my way through this school faster and with more ease if I have such knowledge on my side. I only need to befriend him and gain his trust in order to make this easier for myself. The more knowledge I have, the more likely I am to find a way to get home. 30% more likely with Draco on my side. Friendship on his part will only be a bonus. Faster to gain trust if he thinks of me as a friend."

He'd started muttering to himself, his eyes still trained blankly on the Malfoy boy.

"Hurry up," someone from the Gryffindor table called.

"You have a strong mind, and to use someone's friendship to gain knowledge ... a selfish drive to make yourself more comfortable here and to find a way home ... such a long way home, too ... well you clearly have the attributes of a SLYTHERIN!" the hat concluded, shouting the last word for the whole school to hear. The applause was minimal, even from the Slytherin table. Why had the Hat had such a difficult time Sorting him? The school wanted to know. And even his fellow Slytherin students were unsure of this strange boy. He was handed a green and silver tie on his way to the table, which he fixed around his neck. It brought out the pasty pallor of his skin and the dark circles under his eyes.

He sat beside Crabbe, who had already been sorted into Slytherin, as Draco took his turn on the stool to be Sorted.

"SLYTHERIN!" the Hat cried, before it had even touched his head. Draco raced to fill the empty seat next to L. With a grin, he nudged the young wizard, who replied by sticking out his tongue, his dark eyes blank and wide as usual.

After Ron Weasley and Blaise Zabini were Sorted into Gryffindor and Slytherin, respectively, the grey-haired headmaster stood to make a speech.

"Good evening, everyone. To those who do not know me, my name is Professor Albus Dumbledore-" This was met by loud applause from most of the Hall. "This year, I have a few announcements to make. First years are to note that entry of the forest on the edge of the school grounds is strictly forbidden. Mr Filch has asked me to remind all students that Zonko's newly potent stink bombs will be prohibited this year after last term's unfortunate incident." He eyed a pair of red-haired twins over on the Gryffindor table. "And I'd like to welcome our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Lupin, who was recommended to me by an esteemed governor of the school, Sirius Black, who also joins us this evening."

More applause. L scanned the teachers' table, where a pair of men had stood up, one with longer black hair, one with short brown hair. They each had one arm around the other, and took a slight bow. There were cheerful laughs frmo the Gryffindor table, with people patting the Potter boy on the back.

"I heard James Potter was going to take the Dark Arts position this year, but got too busy with the outbreak of attacks on Muggles," Draco whispered.

"Who?" L replied, not taking his eyes off the teachers' table.

"James Potter! The famous auror? The arrogant Potter boy's father. He and Lily Potter are the famous auror team, though she's retired now to raise her third child, apparently. They shouldn't let Mudbloods like her have children," he added with a disgusted snort.

"What's an auror?" L pushed.

"Someone who's trained to capture dark wizards and counter strong dark magic. So you can see why Potter would be good for the job," Draco shrugged, "They should've hired Snape in my opinion. He's the best teacher here, and head of Slytherin. He teaches Potions."

"How do you know so much?" L asked, pleasantly, watching the dark haired, sallow man Draco had pointed out as Snape. As their eyes met briefly, L's stomach to flipped.

"My father told me," Draco replied, amicably.

Suddenly, Dumbledore had stopped talking, and the feast was ... well not exactly served. It appeared on the plates very suddenly. There were surprised, delighted gasps from everyone.

L snacked slowly on the desserts, allowing Draco to chat to him about nothing in particular, replying only when his mouth was not full of trifle, tiramisu and cake.

* * *

The Slytherin prefects showed the first years to the common room. The entrance was concealed behind a stone wall, somewhere in the castle that L was sure he'd be unable to find again. A ghostly voice whispered for them to say the password.

"Nobility," a prefect replied, causing the wall to swing forwards. They piled into the dimly lit, stony, cosy common room, littered with green leather sofas, with a roaring green fire in the fireplace. The prefect showed the first year boys to their dormitory. They had velvet green-curtained four-poster beds, their trunks already at the foot of each one. Draco claimed the one nearest the fireplace, calling L to sleep in the next one. There were Crabbe, Goyle, and a boy called Theodore Nott, who all fell asleep within ten minutes of going to bed. Draco stayed awake to chat to L.

"Do you think the lessons will be hard?" Draco whispered. "I don't want to let my father down by failing so early..."

"No," L replied, "They will ease us in gently with the basics, and build on our knowledge slowly and methodically. You'll cope, don't worry."

"You think so?"

"Yes."

"Well, at least you're smart enough to get through the difficult stuff. You will help me." It was more a statement than a request.

"If you need it, but only if you'll help me in return," L replied. There was a pause as Draco climbed out of his own bed and onto L's.

"How?" he asked, his groggy grey eyes fixed on L's sleepless dark ones.

"I don't have any social skills. I don't know what to do in many situations. You make friends easily and you have pride. You know your own mind and how to express it. Teach me how to behave around people. Also, you can help me adjust to life as a wizard. I grew up with Muggles, remember." L could put his plan into action so soon, so easily.

Draco's face split into a sleepy grin. He'd be drifting off on L's bed soon.

"No problem," he replied, stifling a yawn. "I should go to sleep now. Good night." He absent-mindedly planted a chaste kiss on L's chin, before clambering back into his own bed. He only had time to wonder why he had done such a thing before he, too was asleep.

L spent the night watching the room slumber, going over the details of what had happened today in his mind and trying to figure out what on earth he was going to do next. Before he knew it, Draco was awake again, as well as the other boys, as the sun broke between the gap in the curtains.

L Lawliet's first term at Hogwarts was about to begin.


	4. Chapter 3

L-Voldemort (L version)

Chapter 3 – L Lawliet, Wizard Extraordinaire.

The Slytherin boys made their groggy way to breakfast in the Great Hall, a wide-eyed L following in their wake. Draco kept turning to make sure he was still following them.

"Did you sleep all right?" he asked, stifling a yawn.

L replied softly, "I did not sleep. I rarely do. When I slept on the train yesterday, it was the first time in a long while and I do not expect to get a good night's sleep for a few months now."

Draco didn't make a reply to this, but looked a little shocked. He shrugged, and led the group of Slytherins to the long table, where he sat next to the Japanese wizard and helped himself to a large plate of fried food. L picked up a jar of honey and a croissant, dipped the pastry in the honey then sucked the honey off it, without eating the pastry. He ate almost the entire jar this way, ignoring bemused looks and hushed giggles from the rest of the table. When one girl dared laugh out loud at him, he shot her a look that silenced her immediately. Perhaps it was the mystery of the boy's origin, the Sorting from the night before, or just a sense of superiority that he radiated, but the rest of the near by Slytherins fell quiet too.

The owl post arrived with a loud whooshing noise. L's already wide eyes widened further as his black owl landed in front of him with a package.

"Light..." he murmured, patting the owl softly on its head. It nipped his wrist, then took the croissant into its beak and flew off again, leaving the package behind.

"Light took my breakfast," he pouted, wide-eyed, poking the parcel tentatively with his wand, which he had pulled from his pocket. He looked around at Draco, who was suppressing a laugh, as he took a letter from his own owl, along with a bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans.

"From my mother," he explained, in reply to L's curious expression. L felt a stab of something - jealousy, he later determined - in his lower abdomen, but turned to his own post. The package did not have a note attached, so L was reluctant to open it.

"Draco, how can I tell what's in here without opening it?" L asked, prodding the parcel again with his wand.

"Dunno," the flushed Draco replied, his pale cheeks tinted pink with the words from his doting mother, written in beautiful handwriting in black ink. L tried to sneak a look at the letter over the Malfoy boy's shoulder, but he folded it away before he could pick out a single word. He offered L a Bean, which he declined politely.

The dark-haired, hook-nosed Professor Snape was making his way down the table with timetables, and had now reached L.

"Name," he asked, in a bored voice. L's stomach tightened into a knot, with an emotion he could not decipher.

"L Lawliet," he replied.

"L? Just L?" Snape asked, meeting the boy's eyes for the first time, with curiosity.

"Yes. It is the name given to me by my carer when I was a few years younger. It stands for 'The Lost One', he said, or maybe 'The Last One', depending on how you interpret it." L's face clouded with longing for his old home, back in his own world, where magic did not exist, and there was a friendly face he'd known for more than a day. "It could be pronounced Eh-ru if you say it in Japanese."

"Right, well, L," Snape continued, putting emphasis on the last syllable, choosing to skim over the topic, "This is your timetable for this year. Ask a prefect if you get lost or can't find your classroom. The teachers will give you a bit of room to breathe for the first two weeks, that is to say, they will allow you to be late with 'I got lost' as an excuse, for two weeks only. That goes for the rest of you, too," he added, looking down his nose at the rest of the first years. "Which reminds me, Mr Lawliet, Mr Malfoy, Professor Dumbledore would like to see you both before you go to your first lesson. Professor McGonagall has been informed that you might be a bit late." Draco's eagle owl gave a soft hoot as Professor Snape gave it a soft, caressing stroke. "And," the sallow-skinned Professor concluded, "send my regards to your parents, Malfoy."

He left, to continue up the table.

Draco began to hastily write a reply to his mother, which L didn't even bother to try to read. Instead, he looked over at the staff table, where the silvery Professor Dumbledore watched the room, whilst eating a bacon sandwich. L's nose scrunched up at the thought of the taste of bacon, and he stuck his tongue in the honey jar to remove the thought from his mouth.

When Draco sent his owl away with his reply, L had just about finished the jar of honey. Most people were starting to leave to go to their first lesson of the day, so Draco led the way to the staff table, L still clutching his wand and the parcel. Professor Dumbledore greeted them with a smile, and gestured that they should go into the chamber behind the staff table.

"Wait here, Mr Malfoy, please," he said softly, allowing L to pass ahead of him into the chamber. The chamber was poorly lit, a warm glow from the fireplace dancing along the stone floor. Professor Dumbledore gestured towards a comfortable-looking armchair, and he himself sank into another. L perched on the edge of the chair, in the way that felt comfortable to him.

"How can I help you, sir?" L asked, flatly, poking his index finger of his right hand between his lips.

"I just wanted to have a brief talk to you about something most curious that caught my attention yesterday at the Sorting. The Hat took a very long time to Sort you, and it told me a peculiar tale about you later that night in my office."

"A tale? Would you be so kind as to elaborate?" L asked, leaning forward in his chair.

Professor Dumbledore chuckled. "I intended to. It told me that you are not from this world. Pray tell, Mr Lawliet, are you an alien?" His eyes twinkled with mirth. When L did not reply, he continued. "Could you tell me what you think the Sorting Hat meant by this? That you are from 'another world'?"

L paused, choosing his words carefully. He would have to trust this man with the truth, it seemed. There was no way out of it. "A few days ago, I lived in an orphanage called 'Wammy's House' which houses gifted children who lack parents. I lay in my bed, on a night like any other, and felt myself being pulled away. I blacked out. When I awoke I was in a completely different orphanage in a completely different part of the country. I have no recollection of ever visiting this orphanage but there were photos of me around the room and a letter on the bedside table addressed to me, informing me that I was a wizard and I was to attend Hogwarts. After that, I sent a letter in reply to gather more details and came here. That is all I know of the matter."

"Very well," Professor Dumbledore replied, peering over his half-moon spectacles at the blank-faced L. "Are you sure that you can remember nothing else?"

"Yes."

"Then you may go."

"Before I leave, Professor, I was wondering if you could help me out?" L held out the package to the Headmaster and explained that he'd received it with no notion of who the sender could be, so was wary. Professor Dumbledore tapped it once with his wand and told him it was safe to open.

"Do it now, though, I want to see what this is," he added, with a slight smile on his greyish face.

L pulled the box open. Inside, on some black tissue paper, lay a gold ring with a black diamond-shaped crest, and a gold necklace with a tastefully sized gold pendant, on which was set many small green gems in the shape of a serpent. L picked them up, one at a time, turning them over, watching the fierce firelight cause them to glint menacingly. Professor Dumbledore inhaled loudly.

"Well, I never ... You want to keep those very safe, Mr Lawliet. I believe those items belonged to your ancestors. You ought to wear them, and mind you don't take them off." The Professor's tone was hushed and reverent, his eyes sparkling. His expression was a mixture between fondness and sternness, a face that could only be managed by such a great man.

L slipped the ring onto the middle finger of his left hand and pulled the necklace over his head, letting it fall between skin and clothing.

"Good boy," Dumbledore smiled. "Off you trot. Have a nice first day."

Without another word, L discarded the box on the floor and left the chamber. Draco gave him a grin and entered the chamber after him. The door closed of its own accord. After five minuted, he emerged, looking stormy, threw a venomous glare over his shoulder then told L to "Come on".

* * *

When they arrived in Transfiguration, they saw that it was a double class with the Hufflepuffs. Draco scoffed under his breath and pulled L towards the two empty seats at the back.

"At the front please, Mr Malfoy," the Transfiguration teacher, Professor McGonagall, trilled as Draco sat down. L followed him to the front of the classroom to the only other empty seats, right in front of the professor's desk. "Right, now we can begin," she continued, sternly.

She commenced to talk them through the basics of Transfiguration, with a few students from the Hufflepuff side of the room answering questions, a stony silence from the Slytherins. McGonagall was the Gryffindor head of house, and the Slytherins were ferociously rivalrous with the Gryffindors. L did not care for this competition, but he had not read any of the books yet so he kept quiet, trying to understand, with a scientific brain, how this worked.

After almost an hour, they were all given a match and told to turn it into a needle. L took out his wand - the longest in the class, and the only one made of yew wood, as far as he could tell - and tapped the match, which instantly turned pointy and took on a metallic shine. Professor McGonagall stared at L, aghast. She seemed unable to form words for a second, then called for everyone to stop for a moment.

"Mr Lawliet, am I correct in thinking you did not say the incantation?"

"Yes, Professor," L replied, shifting his weight to his toes in order to lean forward in his perching position.

"And yet your match has turned flawlessly into a needle?"

"It seems to be so."

"How?"

"I tapped my wand against the match, filling my mind with the intention to turn it into a needle, then I did not have the time to say the spell. It transformed right away."

The professor simply stared at him a moment longer. A first year, from a Muggle background, on his first try, had turned a match into a needle - rare enough, as it was - but not only that, had done so silently. In his head. Without need for verbal incantation. Her mouth opened, then closed, then she dismissed the class, bewildered.

On their way from the classroom, Draco clapped L on the back. "I don't know what the hell you just did, but you made McGonagall lose the will to speak. Must have been something really good. Or really bad."

L looked at him, slowly, worried that he'd done something wrong. Draco replied by sticking his tongue out and flashing a grin. His pale eyes sparkled with glee.

"Did you see the look on her face?" he laughed. They made their way to their second lesson: Potions. In the corridor, L twisted the black and gold ring on his finger, listening to Draco insulting a group of Gryffindors who were also on their way to the dungeons. It was causing L a headache, which in turn clouded his concentration. After all, he hadn't consumed any sugar since breakfast, and he was used to snacking constantly.

The Potter boy, with his ginger-haired friend and a girl with brown hair were amongst the group, and that was at whom Draco's sharp words were aimed. The Potter boy came back with quick quips, the red-head turned a peculiar shade of scarlet, starting with his ears, and the girl simply rolled her eyes and kept repeating, "Just ignore him. He's just jealous that he hasn't any friends."

"A lie," L interjected, suddenly. "Draco simply has a deep disliking for Potter. He has at least one friend - me. I like him and I do not dislike Gryffindors, so if you would be so kind, I'd appreciate a lack of arguments in my presence, else I'll be forced to choose sides. That will make me upset. You do not want to upset me?" The last sentence was more of a question than a statement, an accusatory tone and a blank expression making both parties fall silent. The silence remained until they entered professor Snape's dungeon. His lip curled at the sight of the students entering without speaking.

"There will be no foolish wand waving or silly incantations in this class," he began, as the students sat down. Draco was sat up very straight, whereas L was hunched over in his crouching position, the toes of his shoes hanging over the edge of his stool. "Of course," the professor continued, "I don't expect many of you to excel in potions." His gaze shot over to the Gryffindors. "I'm sure many of you lack the concentration and subtlety required to make a masterpiece-" He waved his hand over the cauldron on his desk. A cloud of greenish smoke arose from it. "-of a potion." He paused - for dramatic effect, L thought - letting his eyes slowly graze over those of each student in the class. A faint smile fluttered over his lips when he looked at Draco, a different, unfathomable expression clouding his face when he met L's gaze. If he didn't know better, l could have sworn it was fear.

Professor Snape slowly walked to the blackboard. "Who can tell me the difference between aconite, monkshood and wolfsbane?"

One hand shot into the air. Potter's friend, the girl, was straining with her arm in the air, as though attempting to touch the ceiling. Snape looked across at the Slytherins, ignoring the girl. "Well?"

L answered without raising his hand. "They are common names for different species of the plant genus Aconitum, which have been used as poisons throughout history, and were also used by the ancient Chinese as a medicine for increasing the level of Yang when unbalanced."

"A Muggle's answer, but impressive nonetheless," Snape replied. "They are, indeed, the names for the Aconitus plant. Who can tell me where one might find a bezoar stone?" The Gryffindor girl's hand shot up again. Snape ignored her for a second time. "Did nobody read their textbooks?" he sighed. L flicked through his quickly, scanning the page until he found it.

"A stone found in the pit of the stomach of a goat," L read, "And to my knowledge, Muggles have long believed that such a thing exists as a cure for most poisons."

"Correct," Snape nodded, "Wizards use it for the same purpose." The Gryffindor girl looked deflated. "Finally," Snape continued, "Who can tell me what this potion is, by the smell and colour of the smoke?" He waved his hand over the cauldron again, wafting the smoke towards the students. The Gryffindor girl's hand shot up into the air right away. Yet again, Professor Snape ignored her. Potter snapped.

"Professor, I think Hermione knows," he called out, in an annoyed voice. Snape rounded on him. Draco's small mouth curled into a smile.

"Mr Potter," Snape smiled, in mock friendliness, though his smile was cold and caused L's stomach to jolt, "Our new celebrity. Tell me, was your famously talented father any good at potions when he was at school? What about your Mudblood mother? Did she pass on any of her gifts to you?" The whole class seemed to be biting back words, Snape's dangerously soft, calm tone frightening them into silence. Hermione had sucked her breath in at the word 'Mudblood', though it meant nothing to L.

Professor Snape let the agonising silence continue for a whole minute, before he resumed. "Potter, can you tell me what this potion is?" He gestured back towards the desk.  
"No, sir," Potter whispered. Snape's smile curled his top lip again.

"No, sir," Professor Snape repeated, dangerously quiet. "That's right." To the rest of the class, in a normal tone that made most of them jump, he said, "This is a Wiggenweld potion. If you turn to page..."

The class continued as though nothing had happened, with Professor Snape talking them through the steps of making a Wiggenweld potion. L interjected a few times with what he deduced to be a better way to use a certain ingredient, or a better length of time to let it brew before adding the next, and so on. Rather than becoming annoyed, Professor Snape was impressed, and agreed that he, too, would have said the same things if not going directly by the textbook. At the end of the lesson, he asked to see L alone. The rest of the class poured out, Hermione almost in tears, Potter biting the inside of his cheek, Draco hanging by the door.

"You can stay, Draco," Snape nodded. When the classroom was empty, he asked L how he had come up with the solutions he had added to the lesson.

"I simply used my knowledge of science to deduce a better way to make the potion. It is quite simple, basic biology in most cases, though I expect my knowledge of the magical side of it will increase with time." He pressed the middle finger of his left to his bottom lip. Snape glanced at the ring on his finger, his eyes widening momentarily, before replying, "Very well. Make sure you raise your hand in future." He dismissed the pair of them to break.

As the walked to the common room, not very far from the dungeon, Draco grinned at L, who looked back at him for about a minute, before asking, "What?"

"Nothing," Draco replied, "Just that you're really good at this, First transfiguration, then potions. We have Flying tomorrow - don't tell me, you're going to sprout wings and out-fly the broomsticks."

L shrugged.


	5. Chapter 4

L-Voldemort (L version)

Chapter 4 – L Lawliet, Heir Apparent.

Draco was twitching in his sleep. L could hear from behind the curtains of his own bed. Soon, he began to mutter, rather loudly, and then started rolling around, hitting his mattress, fighting with his nightmare. A memory suddenly awoke in L's half-dozing mind.

_A young L awakes to find a soft female hand caressing his short, though still messy, hair. The woman, whose face is out of focus in the memory, is making soothing noises. L realises it was only a dream, and feels much better with this lady here. There was a feeling of horror gripping his stomach, but it loosens now, giving way to a more peaceful sleep, but not until the woman smiles at him and plants a kiss on his forehead._

L felt startled by this recollection. It must have been a memory from when he was very young, as he couldn't really remember either of his parents now. But he knew that this must have come to him for a reason now. He climbed out of his bed and tiptoed to Draco. He slid one hand onto Draco's sweating forehead, then awkwardly rubbed back and forth through his hair. He made shushing noises, whilst leaning over his friend. This went on for a short while, until Draco's movements calmed and his eyelids flickered. Slowly, a smile spread over his face, then his eyes opened slowly.

Picture, if you will, waking up to the soothing hand caressing your forehead, and as you wake, a wide pair of dark-rimmed eyes set back on a pale, unsmiling face, framed by a tangle of unwashed black hair, looming over you, not five inches from your face.

I'm sure you, the reader, will understand why Draco screamed so loudly.

* * *

Draco was still not talking to L when they reached their first flying lesson, a two-and-a-half-hour lesson with the Gryffindors and the fierce flying teacher, Madam Hooch. Madam Hooch explained that they must follow her instructions to the letter at all times in order to remain safe, then asked them each to stand by a broom. L took the one between Draco and Potter, who were already shooting glares between one another. Potter would, of course (so L had heard over breakfast) be the best in the year at flying, on account of the fact that his father played Seeker for Gryffindor and had multiple offers from national Quidditch teams on leaving school. Draco had also been flying since he was very young and was certain he would be the best. L could not gather from this conversation what "Seeker" was, or what "Quidditch" could mean, and since none of the Slytherin boys were talking to him, he couldn't ask.

"Put your wand hand over your broom and say 'Up!" Madam Hooch instructed. L walked around to the other side of his broom, so his left hand was over it, then caught the broom as it flew into his open palm, before he'd had the chance to say anything.

"With _feeling_, Mr Longbottom," Madam Hooch was saying. L straddled his broom, like the others were doing. Draco was gripping the broom in a very odd way, but Potter on L's other side looked so comfortable and natural. L only wondered if it would be frowned upon to take his customary crouching position on his broom, rather than sitting, as it was rather uncomfortable. He decided against it, on the grounds that, although his balance was perfect on the ground, he had no idea how it would be once he was in the air.

Everyone had their broom in hand now, so Madam Hooch instructed that they kick off lightly on the sound of her whistle, hover a short while, then touch back down. She corrected Draco's grip in front of the whole class - he turned a delicate pink shade, with a livid expression on his pointed face - then blew her whistle. Longbottom shot off over the castle. Draco drifted into the air easily, sitting astride the broom with no hands for a few seconds. Potter did a languorous figure of eight in the sky before touching down again. L kicked off as Potter landed.

As the ground pulled away from him, L felt an uncomfortable lurch in his stomach. He looked down, no more than ten feet from the floor, then felt all of the colour drain from his already pale whole body seemed to drain of heat and he could see the skin of his hands turn an unpleasant green colour. He pushed the broom forwards and landed roughly, before tumbling from the broom and being violently sick over Harry Potter's shoes. He retched until there was nothing left inside, then sat down on the floor, with a bump. He took deep breaths, not bothering to apologise to Potter, who was kicking the worst of the half-digested scones and cakes from his shoes. Madam Hooch hurried over, looking worried, but there was a sickening crunch not too far away as Longbottom landed on his arm in an unnatural way. He had fallen about thirty feet from one of the gargoyles, which was still holding onto Longbottom's broomstick. Rolling her eyes, the flying teacher picked up the boy, who was whimpering and holding up his broken wrist, then took him to the hospital wing.

"I want all feet firmly on the ground until I get back!" she snapped.

As she left, everyone crowded round L.

"Urgh, what the hell did YOU eat for breakfast?"  
"Did you just pass out from being on a BROOMSTICK?"  
"Nice face!"  
"Leave him alone."

The last voice belonged to Potter's ginger friend, who was peering at the pool of vomit with a disgusted expression, like he was about to add to it himself if someone didn't move it. Hermione appeared all of a sudden - the phrase, "in the nick of time" crossed L's mind afterwards - and used a spell to clear up the mess. L took a mental note of the incantation and wand movement - "Scourgify", with a sharp flick of the wand. The offending breakfast disappeared, along with the smell, which made L feel much better. He lay back on the grass, taking deep breaths.

Draco kicked off into the sky, suddenly, with Potter in hot pursuit. He had picked up a small glass ball which had fallen from Longbottom's pocket as he fell, and Draco was threatening to throw it on the roof. L sighed and stood up, shouting Draco's name. Draco looked coldly down at him and flew off towards the roof. Potter followed with ease. L grabbed his broom and mounted it, then kicked off. He wobbled through the air towards the pair, taking dee breaths to keep his empty stomach from trying to empty itself further.

"Stop it, both of you!" he shouted, in a flat voice. "None of us should be in the air, and you should not pick on Longbottom. Just come to the ground, now." He pronounced the last word with ferocity, making both boys turn mid-air to look at him. He half-closed his eyes and peered at them, with his most superior expression. He pulled his wand from his pocket, slowly, menacingly. "Now," he repeated. The two boys obeyed, and L followed them back to the ground. As his feet hit solid earth, L nearly fainted, his face blanched. He stared both Potter and Malfoy down, holding his ground until the latter handed over the glass ball. At this point, Madam Hooch returned with Longbottom.

"You dropped this," L said, handing the ball to the owner.

"Thanks," he mumbled, pocketing it. It turned crimson.

"Who cleaned up the vomit?" Madam Hooch asked. Hermione raised her hand. "Ten points to Gryffindor," Madam Hooch nodded. Hermione looked relieved. L sat down again, feeling a little shaky. He was sure, without a shadow of a doubt, that flying was not for him.

* * *

At the end of the class, Draco approached him.

"Why did you stick up for that sorry excuse for a wizard?" he demanded. L shrugged.

"I have grown up with a strong sense of justice, and I would have felt terrible if I had just sat and watched you steal something from someone. I have helped out the police - the Muggle police - from a very young age and I solved my first difficult case at the age of eight."

"But ... you're eleven years old, how smart ARE you?" Draco spluttered, forgetting his argument with the Japanese boy.

"My IQ is over 200," he replied, simply. "However, I am ashamed that I could not quite sprout wings, but rather, flying and I do not agree with one another." He put the index finger of his left hand into his mouth and started chewing the nail. "I will practice though. I hate to lose."

Draco was speechless for a moment, but continued, "But ... you threw up really violently, and then you came to chase us down anyway ..." L shrugged again.

They went down to their common room in the dungeon for an hour long break before continuing with the rest of their day, their argument a thing of the past. L was a very intriguing person, after all.

* * *

L spent the evening in the library, pouring over books about wizarding heritage, attempting to find out more about his ring and necklace. Slowly sipping tea from a flask - which was filled about a third of the way up with sugar - he made his way through the stack of books he'd picked out. He read in a peculiar way; he lifted the book up with the forefinger and thumb of one hand by the corner, and pushed the pages over with his other hand, after scanning the page for information. Between the hours of five and eight that evening, he managed to get through a stack of books that reached above his head. When he finally found something, it was about ten past eight, later than he should have stayed in the library, in the book fourth from the bottom of his stack. It was an old, beaten copy of what was probably rewritten as _Hogwarts: A History_ called _The Hidden History of Hogwarts' School_. In a section about the school's founders, more specifically in the part about Salazar Slytherin, something caught L's eye. He peered intently over the page, reading the passage beside the picture of his locket.

The passage read:  
Salazar Slytherin, the last of the co-founders of Hogwarts, accepted only pure-blood wizards into his house, and believed the other founders should do the same. It is thought that he had this locket made to commemorate the first Sorting ceremony, inscribed with his initial S and later set with emeralds. It is thought that the locket was passed down through his family until about 1700AD, when it becomes untraceable. The locket's whereabouts is unknown today, although many copies could be in existence. As nobody knows what is inside the locket, that could be the true factor for determining authenticity.

L's eyes widened. He took a steadying gulp of tea. If this necklace had been passed down through Slytherin's family, could it mean that he had received it from someone related to Slytherin? Or possibly that he, L, could be a descendant of Slytherin? He marked the page with a slip of paper and put the book to one side to take out. He continued down the pile, and found a brief mention of the ring in "Pure Blood Families of the British Isles" - the last book of the pile. It mentioned rings being passed down through pure blood families with crests or seals on them representing something about that family, which was usually magic related. Deciding that that would be enough for now, L marked the page in that book and asked the librarian to take these two books from the library. She glanced over at the untidy mound of books on the floor by the table at which L had been working. She cleared her throat and gestured towards the heap.

"I'll tidy that up," L murmured. He neatened the pile into a stack while Madam Pince checked out his two books. With a flick of her wand, she managed to tidy them onto the correct shelves in a second. They said goodnight and L returned to the dungeons, books tucked under his arm. Draco was the only one sat in the common room when L arrived, and looked up when he entered.

"Wow, how long do you want to spend in the library?" he asked, a teasing smile warming his face.

"I was trying to find out some information about the items delivered to me yesterday morning," L explained. He showed Draco the ring, which he said had already noticed, and the necklace. When he saw the necklace, his eyes widened like they were about to burst from his head.

"That's Slytherin's crest!" he spluttered. L nodded, allowing Draco to hold the pendant, though he did not remove it from around his neck.

"The chances of it being authentic are quite slim, about 5% I think, but Professor Dumbledore asked me to keep it on my person at all times, which leads me to believe that it is either valuable or dangerous. If it is the real thing, the chances of it being passed to me via a member of Slytherin's family is about 70%. In which case, the chances that I am related to Salazar Slytherin in some way is about 40%."

Draco looked astounded, and gently lowered the pendant to L's chest. "Wow. You might be Slytherin's great-great-great grandson or something."

"Doubtful," L shrugged, "But believe what you wish to believe. As for the ring, it is probably just an old wizarding family heirloom, perhaps passed to me by someone who knows my heritage or, again, is a relative of mine. I doubt that it has any value, but I am reluctant to take it off."

"We have a lot of valuable heirlooms," Draco replied, quietly, almost to himself. L just looked at him with his curious, wide-eyed expression. He perched on a green leather armchair and read the passage about Slytherin's locket to a mildly interested Draco. About nine o'clock, older students began to fill the common room and a sleepy Draco retired to the dormitory. L accompanied him, and they talked until Draco fell asleep. L lay on his bed, feet tucked almost under his back so his knees were pointing up. His mind was still racing. He was coming to terms with the existence of magic, but the thought that he could have a strong connection to a famous, ancient wizard was too much. Wasn't it just a week ago that he had been living in Wammy's House for four years, astounding the other children with his unthinkable mind, solving difficult and interesting police cases, trying in vain to learn how to respond in social situations? With a sigh, he sat up and leant against the wall before deciding to read through the remainder of his textbooks. Perhaps there was something in one of them about how to overcome air sickness. He was not going to waste his night times, just because everyone else was able to sleep.

He suddenly felt the beginnings of tears pricking the corners of his eyes, but he shook them away. Morning did not come quickly enough.


	6. Chapter 5

L-Voldemort (L version)

Chapter 5 – The Malfoys.

Christmas came quicker than any of the first years had anticipated. The air in the castle tingled with excitement. Some students would be staying at Hogwarts. Others would be travelling out to spend the holidays with their families. L had resigned himself to spending the holidays alone in the castle since most of the Slytherin first years would be going home, including Malfoy.

About a week before the holidays, Draco had a stroke of genius. Over breakfast, whilst reading an owl from his mother, Draco nudged L in the side.

"Hey, L. Why don't I see if you can come and stay with me over Christmas? I think my parents would be okay with it, since I told them about you being a member of the Slytherin family." There was a hint of laughter in his voice, as L turned to look at him. His grey eyes were twinkling and his pale, drawn face was warm with fondness for his friend. L nodded once, then turned back to his breakfast - a pile of Chocolate Frogs which the Slytherin first years had somehow acquired from Honeydukes in Hogsmeade as an early Christmas present. In his trunk, L now had a crate of Chocolate Frogs (and an almost complete collection of Famous Witches and Wizard cards, Draco teased), three boxes of Licorice Wands, a few dozen bags of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans and a packet of sherbet lemons. Once Draco had spread the word about L's "heritage", the Slytherin first years had started to treat him with more reverence than usual, and kept giving him gifts of sweets. L refused them at first, but gave up when he realised how much he liked Chocolate Frogs.

The reply came the following morning at breakfast. Draco's owl swooped down before any of the other post came. It dropped in front of L, who untied a package from it as Draco ripped the letter from its beak.

"'Draco'," Draco began to read, as L cast a charm on the package to slowly move it over to Draco without having to move himself. "'Please tell your friend L that he can stay with us over the Christmas holidays if he wants to. We'd be happy to have him, as long as he wears socks in the house. I've sent a box of them, since you said he likes his feet bare. However, your father would find it rude if he were to walk through the house barefoot. The house-elf is already preparing an extra bed in your room, and I'm sure you have plenty of room for the two of you in there. Write again soon'. Well that settles that," Draco grinned. L smiled back, gripping the bench with his naked toes. Draco tore the parcel open as L silently lifted the charm, and inside were sweets and lots of socks.

* * *

The train was almost at the platform. L and Draco were sharing a moment of laughter as Draco tried to teach L a little more about how to act like a pureblood in polite society and L had got it all wrong. The other Slytherins were laughing and joking amongst themselves, but a few pairs of eyes kept flitting to the ring on L's finger.

Suddenly, Draco spotted a shock of white-blond hair on the crowded platform. "There's mother!" he cried, jumping out of his seat to wave at her. The other students stood up too, to wave at their own families as the train hissed to a halt. As soon as the doors popped open, Draco, tugging L behind him, skipped over to his mother, who was looking uncomfortable.

"Draco, darling," she smiled, kissing him on the forehead. "And you must be L."

L stepped forward and took Draco's mother's hand in his, before stopping down to kiss it. "A pleasure to meet you," he bowed. Mrs Malfoy started when she saw the ring on his hand, and gripped his hand for another look at it. When satisfied, she nodded back to him, settling back into her uncomfortable air.

"Come, Draco, I don't want to keep your father waiting."

The three of them made their way through the crowd, out into King's Cross Station, where there was a carriage waiting for them.

* * *

They pulled up outside Malfoy Manor. Draco stepped out first and held the door open for his mother, who proceeded to open the huge wrought-iron gates, as L jumped down from the carriage, his feet feeling too warm and squashed in his new socks. It would take some getting used to, but having squashed, over-heating feet was preferable to spending a fortnight alone in the castle with Potter, Ron Weasley, Hermione and a handful of Hufflepuffs. Perhaps he could find out some information from the Malfoys about his ring and necklace, the latter of which he still wore under his baggy white t-shirt.

They walked in silence to the house. Mrs Malfoy seemed to be apprehensive about something, and Draco was acting the same way. They were greeted by a strange creature at the door. It was about three feet tall, with bat-like ears, eyes the size and shape of two tennis balls and a thin snout, dressed in what appeared to be a pillowcase. L's eyes widened at the site of it. He started forwards to examine it, but Draco caught his sleeve.

"This is our house-elf. He's a servant. If you need anything, you can tell him and he'll fetch it for you," Draco explained. The house-elf sank into a deep bow, it's face contorted with an expression of self-pity. It was filthy, and although L felt a little sympathy towards it, he couldn't help but recoil slightly.

L was shown through to the living room, where Mr Malfoy was sat talking to Professor Snape, of all people. Their conversation ended abruptly as the three of them, and the house-elf, entered. Snape stood up and nodded at Mrs Malfoy. "Narcissa. delightful to see you again." Mrs Malfoy floated over to him and let him kiss her hand. Mr Malfoy kissed her on the cheek. Draco hesitated, until his father nodded. He closed the gap between himself and his father, throwing his arms around him in a hug. He gave a nod towards Professor Snape, before returning to L's side.

"Father, this is my friend L Lawliet, who I told you about. L, this is my father, Lucius Malfoy." Lucius' eyes fell onto the ring on L's hand. L held out that hand to Mr Malfoy, who shook it. The expression on his face told L that he believed it to be the genuine artefact - L was descended from a pure bloodline, and a prestigious one if Lucius' greeting was anything to go by.

"An honour to have you in our house, Mr Lawliet. I trust you know Professor Snape. He will be dining with us this evening."

"A pleasure, sir," L replied, before turning his gaze on Snape. His stomach knotted painfully, as the Professor's eyes grazed his own. L couldn't stop himself smiling at the potions master, who gave him a small nod.

"Draco, show L to your room. He will be sleeping in there with you," Narcissa trilled, happy to see her husband approve of L. "L, if you need anything, just ask Dobby."

"Thank you, Mrs Malfoy," L smiled.

"It's Narcissa to you, darling," she replied, before shooing them away.

* * *

L laid on Draco's bed as Draco started unpacking his trunk.

"How did I do?" he asked. Draco turned to smile at him.

"Fine. Mother likes you a lot. Father does too. And your manners were impeccable, even if I say so myself." L let out a sigh of relief. "Were you worried?" Draco asked, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

"No," L lied, "I was certain I would do well, because I am the heir of Slytherin." He winked at Draco, who pounced on him. They wrestled each other to the floor, laughing breathlessly, until a small knock at the door made them look up.

"Dinner is ready in five minutes, young masters," Dobby the house-elf squeaked. Draco shot it a nasty look, before picking himself up off the floor. L stood up too, smoothing his crumpled t-shirt and looking around for some socks.

"Don't worry too much about looking messy. If Father thinks you're Slytherin's heir he won't say anything."

"I still don't want to be rude," L muttered. He felt his cheeks flush slightly from having been caught rolling around with Draco, but it had felt good to act like a normal child for once. Even though he was still treated differently by the other children, being at Hogwarts had done just that - made him feel like a normal child. For once, he wasn't holed up in a hotel room reading over case files and watching CCTV footage, or sat in his room in the orphanage desperate to sleep, or hunched over in a police station questioning someone. Normality was something strange and comforting to L.

"Hurry up," Draco called, leaning against the door frame. L replied by sticking his tongue out.

* * *

The days of their Christmas holidays were spent out in the grounds of the Manor. Draco was trying to teach L to fly, and he was really getting the hang of it, but still couldn't spend more than three minutes in the air without turning green. When it was raining, or snowing, they would sit inside and practice charms and spells. Draco had mastered a difficult one that conjured a snake from his wand.

It was Christmas eve, and it was snowing a blizzard outside, so the boys were up in Draco's bedroom, L crouched on the bed surrounded by books, Draco himself stood facing L.

"Try one more time. You almost had it," L encouraged. Draco nodded and pointed his wand at the floor in front of him.

"Serpensortia!" he shouted. With a loud crack, a small cobra appeared from the end of his wand.

"Wow!" L exclaimed, his eyes widening. "Fascinating." The snake lifted its head and stared right at him. It bared its fangs. "I won't hurt you," L soothed, leaning closer. It blinked and closed its mouth, sliding closer to him.

Draco made a strange noise, as though he was being strangled.

"What?" L asked, looking up from the snake. Draco as even paler than usual, his eyes wide.

"You're a Parselmouth!"

"I'm a what, now?"

"You can talk to snakes!" Draco spluttered, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I can't talk to snakes," L replied, frowning.

"You just did! Go on, say something else to it. Tell it to curl into a circle or something, and I bet it will."

"Don't be ridiculous, people can't talk to snakes."

"Salazar Slytherin could talk to snakes."

"Okay, fine." L glanced back down at the snake, which was staring intently at him. "You heard him. Prove I'm talking to you for real. Curl up or something." The snake nodded once and curled itself into a spiral. L's mouth dropped open. "That's fascinating! So why don't you talk to Draco?"

"He won't undersssstand Parssseltongue," the snake hissed.

"You mean, we're speaking in a different language right now? That's difficult to comprehend."

"But it'ssss true." The snake winked at him. L almost fell from his perch.

"This is amazing."

"Masters, dinner is ready in five minutes," Dobby called from the doorway. Draco shot him a murderous look. "Dobby doesn't think that Master Draco should be keeping snakes in his room, sir..." Draco slammed the door in the house-elf's face.

"You're a Parselmouth ... this makes sense. You're definitely a Slytherin descendant. Only true Slytherins can speak to snakes. Wait until Father hears about this!" Draco grinned, clapping his hands with excitement.

"Finite incantatum," L thought, and the snake disappeared with a crack. Draco jumped.

"I wish you wouldn't do that," he growled. L smiled apologetically. He was just used to saying spells in his mind rather than out loud.

They cleared up the books, then went downstairs to the smaller dining room, where Narcissa gestured for them to sit down.

For the first time since L and Draco had arrived, the Malfoys were not joined by anyone for dinner. Every night they had been joined by Professor Snape, or a member of the Black family, or a Hogwarts school governor, though L noticed that Sirius Black, though a member of the Black and family _and_ the Chair of Governors, was never mentioned, nor invited to dinner. He did not want to ask why, but he had a fair idea. Sirius Black seemed to be on very close terms with Professor Lupin, against whom Snape seemed to hold a grudge of some sort. He could only assume that this was the problem, or that Sirius had done something to upset his own family.

Draco and L were sent to bed at ten o'clock sharp that night. At eleven years old, they both protested strongly, but even Lucius insisted, intrigued though he was by Draco's claim that L was a Parselmouth.

"We'll talk about it tomorrow over lunch. Now little boys need to sleep on Christmas eve, even heirs of famous powerful wizards. Bed. Now." And that was the end of it.

* * *

"L! Wake up!" Draco shouted, jumping onto L's mattress on the floor. L groaned. It was the first night in months that he had slept soundly, and Draco wanted him to wake up early.

"What is it?" he mumbled, pushing Draco away, to no avail. Draco ripped his covers off him and wrestled him from his pillow.

"Come on! It's Christmas Day! Presents!" Draco laughed, as L made to punch him weakly.

"Is that any way for a pureblood to behave?" L teased, sleepily, nuzzling his face back into his pillow. Draco started to tickle him. L felt his control waive. Soon he was giggling unrestrainedly, with tears running down his face. "All right! I'm up," he gasped. Draco smirked and climbed back onto his own bed. He pointed at a pile of brightly-coloured parcels at the foot of L's futon.

"I have presents?" L muttered, a curious smile spreading across his face.

"Yep! Open that big red one, it's from me!" Draco replied, ripping open two presents at once.

L crawled over to the pile and selected the large red one from the bottom of the heap. He pulled the paper off, delicately, as though it was dirty. Underneath was a Honeydukes box of assorted sweets, with a piece of paper taped to it, which had a cartoon of L sat chewing a licorice wand on it.

"That's cute, Draco, thank you. Since I didn't get you a gift, I'll share it with you."

"That's okay. I might swipe a few chocolate frogs. Just so you know, you're the only person that got a gift from me this year, apart from my mother."

L looked at him for a second. Innocent fondness shone from Draco's face as he smiled back at his friend. L thanked him again in Japanese, and Draco's face twisted slightly in confusion.

"What does that mean?"

"It's just thank you. It feels more sincere saying it in my mother tongue. Merry Christmas, Draco."

"Merry Christmas, L." They shared a warm smile before continuing to little Draco's room with brightly-coloured paper.

* * *

L was surrounded by books again. He had received a thick book about complicated potions from Professor Snape; a book about Quidditch (as well as a new Nimbus 2000) from Mr and Mrs Malfoy; the Grade Five Standard Book of Spells from Blaise Zabini, who had teased him just last month about being four years ahead of everyone else, intelligence-wise; a book about old wizarding artefacts from Professor Dumbledore (though L kept the sender of this gift to himself); and a book on the subject of Animagi, whatever that was, from an anonymous source. After having read the inside cover, he discovered it was a way of transforming oneself into an animal, in body, although it was difficult to do and heavily moderated by the ministry of Magic.

"Who do you think could have sent me this?" L asked Draco, who shrugged.

"There isn't a note or anything?"

"No."

"Dunno then," Draco shrugged, turning back to his Christmas morning breakfast - some of L's chocolate frogs.

They lounged around in their pyjamas until eleven o'clock, when Dobby was sent to tell them that "Mistress Narcissa" wanted them dressed and downstairs for eleven-thirty. Draco groaned and shooed the house-elf away, but started feeling around in his cupboard for something suitable to wear. L found his smart Hogwarts trousers and a shirt from the bottom of his trunk, tried to de-wrinkle them and pulled them on. He knew he wouldn't be able to do anything with his hair, but he tried to flatten it a bit anyway. Draco's was clean and ruffled, giving him a softer look than usual, but he had slicked it back within minutes.

"You should wear your hair natural more often," L commented. Draco threw him a look, half annoyed, half amused.

"You should grow yours out," he shot back.

"Fine, it's a deal," L replied, sticking his tongue out unsmilingly.

"Fine."

They simultaneously broke into grins.

* * *

Lunch was a formal affair, with the main dining room full to capacity. The Malfoys were joined by what seemed to be the entire Black family (Draco's aunt Bellatrix seemed particularly taken with L, who was keeping a cool, distant exterior on account of his nerves), save for the elusive Sirius, the Crabbes and Goyles, a range of other pureblood families whose names L could not keep track of, and Severus Snape. The conversation was either complimenting the food, business-related or Hogwarts-related. There was a long discussion amongst the group about how the children were doing at school.

"Mr Lawliet there is excelling in potions," Snape chimed in, "I'd say he's actually better than I was at his age."

That caused a murmur to spread around the table. Someone better at potions than Severus Snape?

"He's excelling in everything," Draco piped up, nudging his friend proudly in the ribs. L met the eyes of everyone on the table in reply, but continued eating his dessert.

"Is that so? A smart little Slytherin, hm?" Draco's aunt Bellatrix trilled, stroking L's hair with her free hand. "Wonder why you didn't end up in Ravenclaw," she mused, adding venom to the last word.

"L is a direct descendant of Salazar Slytherin," Lucius called out, nonchalantly. The table fell silent.

"It's true, as far as I know," L admitted. "I can speak Parseltongue and I have Slytherin's locket, as well as my family ring as proof."

It took about a minute for the locket to be passed around the table. L's gaze never left the locket, ensuring its safe return to him. The conversation fell into a lull as people nodded and whispered to each other that they believed this to be the truth.

"Draco can do the Snake Summoning charm," L offered. There was another buzz of conversation as people asked Draco how he'd learned, and wasn't it difficult for a first year to do an advanced spell like that? Draco seemed pleased to have the conversation turn to him, and L could return to his pudding in peace.

* * *

It was about midnight that night when Draco whispered to L, "Are you still awake?"

"Of course," he replied, rolling over to face Draco. "What's up?"

"I think I left my Sneakoscope in the library. Do you fancy going and getting it? I can't sleep."

L pushed himself to a sitting position with a sigh. "Come on then."

The two boys sneaked out of the bedroom, Draco clutching L's arm. They made it downstairs without making too much of a noise. Dobby heard a stair squeak and came to see what it was.

"Masters should not be-" Dobby was cut off as Draco's hand slammed over his mouth. He gestured for L to go to the library while he held on to Dobby. L tiptoed down the hall, past several rooms, before reaching the closed door of the library.

He thought he heard voices coming from inside, so he paused. It sounded like Lucius whispering to someone. He pressed himself against the wall and strained to listen.

"Nosey reporters ... no-good newspaper ... keep their noses out ..." Lucius whispered. The person who replied sounded like Draco's aunt Bellatrix.

"Careful Malfoy ... not stupid as they seem ... Muggle killings ... unnoticed ..."

L's ears pricked up. They were talking about the Muggle killings that the Daily Prophet had been going crazy about recently!

"Being careful ... know how to cover ... to a minimum ... not using ... Kedavra ... obvious ... more blood ..."

There was a pause in the conversation, and footsteps coming towards the door. L took this as his opportunity to escape. He ran down the hall on his toes, soundlessly, back to where Draco was wrestling with Dobby.

"There were people in there," L mouthed. Draco nodded. He made a slashing movement at his throat towards the house-elf, then clung to L as they sneaked back upstairs.

"Well that was pointless," Draco sighed, once back in the safety of his room. "But I'm awake now. Want to practice spells?"

"Sure," L shrugged. his mind was racing with the details of the conversation he'd heard. If only they had been talking a little louder so he could have heard the full thing. His detective instincts were kicking in. He wanted to investigate. But he could not. He needed to act like a normal child, and practice spells with Draco.

* * *

Too soon, they were climbing onto the train back to Hogwarts. It was almost as full with students now as it had been on their first day, but there was an air of melancholy - the Christmas holidays were over! L felt a little relieved to be returning to Hogwarts, though, where he didn't have to mind his pureblood manners every minute of the day, where he could sit and eat sweets all day long, but he would miss the quality time with Draco. He felt like he'd grown close to the young wizard, even in this short space of time. He had forgotten that he had planned to use Draco to find his way home, or even that this wasn't where he was supposed to be.

He was going back to Hogwarts, and for now, that was all that mattered.

* * *

By the end of his first year, it was well rumoured through the school that there was something different about that Japanese wizard called L. Some said he was the heir of Salazar Slytherin. Others said he could talk to snakes. A handful of students genuinely believed that he was from another planet, or dimension. The truth of it was that even the teachers treated him with some reverence, but it was because L knew how to use his charm to get what he wanted. Draco had started a few of the rumours himself, for laughs.

L spent the first fortnight of his summer holiday in the orphanage he had ended up at that night he had be transported from his own world. He spent the time asking around for information about how he had ended up there. All he learnt was that someone had abandoned him there, telling them his name and date of birth, when he was very young. Nobody knew anything about the crest on his ring. Nobody could tell him anything about the series of killings, other than the police were doing nothing about it and they were happening less often these days.

He stayed with the Malfoys for the last few weeks of the holiday, playing Quidditch with Draco, still not getting over his flying sickness, learning more spells and forgetting about his quest to get home.

* * *

In their second year, Draco became the Slytherin Quidditch team Seeker, to rival Harry Potter who had become the Gryffindor Seeker. Lucius bought the Slytherin team Numbus 2001s. L impressed in his final exams, and received an icy glare from Hermione Granger, who placed second in the year below him.

The summer was the same as the year before. He spent two weeks in the orphanage trying to figure out who he was supposed to be, how he was supposed to get home, and what was going on with the Muggle killings. Back at the Malfoy manor for the rest of the summer, he started to investigate, but became distracted by Draco, who made him act more like a child and less like a detective. Again, he forgot his quests and just enjoyed sending time in the sun with the boy who was becoming more important to him than finding a way home.

L's third year was also relatively uneventful. After finally reading the book he'd received two years earlier, he asked McGonagall about Animagi, and if he could become one, and she had agreed that if he was still interested the following year, and if the Ministry approved, she would start to teach him. Remus Lupin resigned when the school found out that he was a werewolf - even L was surprised at that. He hadn't suspected it once, even though Lupin missed a class every month. Draco snorted, on the train home, that it was about time "that idiot of a Dark Arts teacher" was given the boot, and that he hoped Snape would get the job.

L's social skills were improving, as was his posture, and he was growing his hair out as he had promised. His fringe was nearly at his collar bone. In return, Draco started wearing his hair in a more natural way, fluffy and ruffled. Pansy Parkinson started hanging round L and Draco more, complimenting Draco on his hair. Draco developed an air of arrogance, that he was the son of a powerful school governor, as well as a pureblood wizard, and the best friend of the heir of Slytherin - it had become legend rather than rumour by now. L, too, was becoming a little conceited. Though his strong sense of justice remained, he was learning how to manipulate others into doing what he wanted or needed.

In the summer between third and fourth year, L discovered the origin of his ring. It belonged to the Gaunt family, the descendants of the family of Slytherin, the line of which had been lost fifty years ago, but whose traits L possessed - the ability to talk to snakes, the ability to manipulate others, the thirst for knowledge.

Despite all of this, L was still well-liked. He did not discriminate against anyone, and was the only Slytherin of his year to never have been heard calling someone a Mudblood, or using other such terms. He looked down on house-elves as slightly inferior, but he had grown quite fond of Dobby, and the poor house-elf received less beatings during L's stays because of it. He tried to help the younger Slytherins with their homework if he found any of them to be struggling, and even stopped a sixth year Slytherin from bullying a young Hufflepuff about her braces.

* * *

However, if L's life had been eventful, confusing and tempestuous so far, it was nothing compared with what was coming.


	7. Chapter 6

L-Voldemort (L version)

Chapter 6 – Red, Gold and Black.

L made his way through to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters alone, for the first time in four years. He had spent the last night of his summer holiday back at the orphanage, in order to be alone to think through all that he had learned that summer. The ring belonged to the Gaunt family. He had discovered that by reading the book that Dumbledore had given him a few years ago, though he had forgotten about it until that summer. Did Dumbledore know more than he was letting on? L was unsure, so he had taken a night away from Malfoy Manor to think things over by himself, but still had not come to any conclusion. So he had packed up his trunk and made his way to the platform earlier than usual, alone.

The platform was almost deserted at nine forty-five. L found himself a bench and perched on it. He began flicking through the grade seven spellbook (three years too early, another joke present from Blaise, but it was useful and interesting nonetheless), when he heard hushed voices coming from the other side of a pillar. His curiosity getting the better of him, L hopped down from the bench and moved to another, closer to the conversation. Peeking from the corner of his eye, he could see it was Remus Lupin talking to the Chair of Governors, Sirius Black. He sank down into his hunched, perching position and pretended to read his book.

"James doesn't like it, you know Sirius."

"I thought he was okay with us being-"

"No, I mean, he doesn't think you should be getting me my job back this way. He thinks you're exploiting your position."

"Since when does James think about things like that?" Sirius huffed.

"Since we're not kids any more," Remus replied, gently. "You know how James is these days. I think he's right but I'm too grateful to have my job back to protest." There was a pause in the conversation. L turned his head slightly and looked out of the corner of his eye. They were hugging tenderly. Tenderly was the only word L could think of to describe it. Remus' hands were hooked around the taller man's neck, who was returning the embrace by wrapping his arms around Remus' waist. They pulled apart after ten seconds or so.

"We should tell Harry," Remus mumbled, softly.

"Yeah," Sirius agreed. "I'll tell him if you like. I'm going to visit him tonight anyway."

"Okay. Give him a hug from me." There was another pause as they looked at each other, Remus smiling wearily, Sirius beaming handsomely. The latter leaned down and planted a kiss on the nose of the former. Remus gave him a look that said "you're acting like a lovesick teen". L felt his stomach give a little jolt as he started to comprehend the situation. Sirius kissed Remus on the nose again, but this time Remus tilted his face up to catch the kiss on his lips.

L turned away, embarrassed to be witnessing such a private moment like that. He hopped off his chair and wandered back to where he had been sitting previously, before the two men noticed he had been sat there, listening in. He felt an amused smile spread across his face, but he didn't know why it was there. To distract himself, he buried himself in the Standard Book of Spells: Grade Seven once again, and didn't notice the platform slowly filling up.

"Did you miss me?" a familiar voice asked, right by his ear. He felt his heart rate quicken, but only because Draco had startled him.

"No," he replied, sticking his tongue out. He stuffed the book back into his bag, which he slung onto the trolley with his trunk, before hopping over the bench to hug his friend.

"Liar," Draco grinned, into L's shoulder. "Not even a little bit?"

"Maybe a little bit," L admitted. He watched Draco's grey eyes trace the lines of his face, as he leaned in. L went to kiss him on the chin, as Draco had done to L many times before, but Draco was also trying to kiss L on his chin. The result was that their lips brushed together for a second, then they simultaneously moved backwards, apologising. Draco licked his lips, a small wrinkle appearing between his eyebrows. He rubbed the back of his neck, then gave a short laugh.

"Let's get on the train, okay?"

* * *

The Great Hall was buzzing with the news Dumbledore had just imparted. L had no idea what it meant, anyway, he just wanted to eat.

"So what?" he mumbled. Draco gave him a sharp look.

"So what? Are you kidding? The Triwizard Tournament is a really big deal!" he cried. "I mean, I knew about it anyway, since my father told me, but even you should have heard of it."

"I was raised by Muggles," L reminded him.

"Even so," Draco replied, raising his eyebrows. "It's this huge tournament that takes place every four years. Three schools compete. There's Hogwarts, Durmstrang in Bulgaria - Father wanted me to go there, but Mother couldn't bear for me to be in another country for so long - and another one from somewhere in Europe. France of Spain or somewhere, I forget. But they stopped it, I don't know how many years ago, because a student died."

L felt his eyes widen. "And they're bringing it back anyway. Irresponsible, if you ask me," he shrugged. He turned back to face Dumbledore. The sooner he finished talking, the sooner L could get to eating dessert. The Headmaster continued.

"We will be playing host to friends from two other wizarding schools, so please be polite and friendly, and on your best behaviour during their stay. In addition to this, there will be an inter-house exchange program going on. Each term, one student from each house will be chosen at random to live in another house, also chosen at random, for one term. This is to improve relationships between houses, in light of last year's events." He paused to eye some seventh years. "This term, from Gryffindor, Fred Weasley has been selected to stay in the Ravenclaw house."

There was a pained cry from Fred Weasley's twin, George, who was clinging to his brother and wailing theatrically.

"All right, all right, settle down George," McGonagall shouted. Dumbledore gave a chuckle.

"Next, from Ravenclaw house, Miss Luna Lovegood has been selected to stay with the Hufflepuffs. From Hufflepuff house, to stay with the Slytherins, Zacharias Smith. From Slytherin house, to stay with the Gryffindor house..." Dumbledore paused, for dramatic effect. The whole Slytherin table, as well as the Gryffindor table, held their breath. "L Lawliet," Dumbledore read. A murmur rippled around the room. L felt his stomach knot again. He looked to Draco for comforting words, rare though they were from the blond wizard, but he looked just as shocked and speechless as L felt. Just as he was starting to feel like he belonged with the Slytherins, he was being uprooted and thrown into the lions' den, so to speak.

From his other side, Blaise patted L on the arm.

"It's only for a term mate, we'll still be here at Christmas."

"Yeah," Pansy added, "We were told on our letters that we're all to stay over the holidays, so don't worry."

"You'll see us in class," Goyle reassured him. L could have sworn that was the first time Goyle had spoken to him directly. L nodded, and stared at Draco for a second, who still seemed to be searching for words.

The feast began. L dove into the tiramisu, polishing off a whole one himself before making a start on a bowl of cherries. He put a whole one in his mouth, spat the stone out into his goblet, then absent-mindedly tied the stem into a knot with his tongue, before pulling it from his mouth. Draco was watching him silently, whilst chewing on a piece of chicken. L stuck his tongue out at Draco, but he seemed in too foul a mood, suddenly, to crack a smile.

"Can the house exchange students come here please?" Dumbledore requested, over the din. L stood up and said goodbye to the nearby Slytherins. Blaise replied with a hearty smile, and Pansy blew him a kiss.

"Bye, Draco," L repeated. Draco struggled for a moment, before replying.

"Just make sure you get some sleep, yeah? And don't be too nice to the Mudblood."

"Understood." L bowed, ignoring the insult, which was probably directed at Hermione, before making his way to Dumbledore. The other three students and himself were shown into the chamber behind the teachers' table. L glanced over at Draco, who looked annoyed, before following them in.

"This is what is expected of you this term," the Headmaster began, speaking slowly, gesturing for the four of them to gather round him. "You will sleep in the dormitory of your adopted house. You will study in their common room. You will sit with that house at mealtimes. You will earn points for that house. You will attend lessons as normal. If you have any problems, speak to one of the heads of houses. Under no circumstances will you be rude, unfair or unkind to anyone from your adopted house. Treat them as though you've been in that house always. Understood?" He was looking directly at L, who narrowed his eyes as he nodded. "Your belongings are already in your new dormitories, and you will move back to your old dormitories on Christmas Eve night. You may go."

The four of them left silently. Luna offered L a smile, which he returned. Since the Great Hall was empty now, L assumed that everyone would be in their common rooms already. He knew the Gryffindor common room was on the seventh floor somewhere. He stopped Fred Weasley and asked for directions, and he gave them to him fairly clearly. After about ten minuted, L found his way there. The portrait Fred had described was smiling at him.

"Password?" she asked.

"I don't know," L admitted, "I'm a Slytherin student on an exchange-"

"L Lawliet?" she asked.

"Yes."

The portrait swung open. L climbed through, into the Gryffindor common room. There were only a few students sat in there, and it was a lot more brightly lit than the Slytherin common room. The chairs, rather than being of green leather, were made of soft-looking red material. There was a huge fireplace, which was roaring, and long, velvet curtains at the windows.

L looked around for someone he recognised. Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley were sat by the fire playing chess - Muggle chess, he noticed, rather than wizard chess. He stalked over to them, and hopped onto the sofa next to Hermione. Without a word, he moved one of Hermione's white pieces, and declared, "Checkmate." The smug expression slid from Ron's face. Hermione's expression flitted from surprised to annoyed to confused to happy.

"You must be L Lawliet. We haven't been properly introduced," she smiled, offering her hand to L. He shook it, and nodded, wordlessly.

Ron mumbled something about "Slytherins" and "nasty" and "fraternising", but Hermione threw him a look, which shut him up.

"Nice to meet you," L replied, bowing in his crouching position. He offered his hand to Ron, who hesitated, then shook it.

L watched them play another match, resisting the urge to play it for them - they were so slow! At about ten o'clock, when the common room had mostly emptied, L saw Ron's face split into a grin. Hermione looked over her shoulder, and also started smiling. L traced their gazes to the door, where Sirius Black was standing, arms open. L felt himself blush slightly. Ron got up and hugged the man, and Hermione followed suit.

"Sirius, mate, how are you?" Ron asked.

"I'm good, thanks. Is Harry about? I have some news."

"Sure, I'll go get him," Ron replied. He dashed up a flight of stairs, which L assumed led to the dormitories. Sirius caught L's eye and gave him a friendly smile.

"This is L, he's a Slytherin. He was chosen for the exchange program," Hermione explained. She waved L over. L come over to them, and introduced himself politely, before wrapping Sirius in a hug. Sirius chuckled, and patted him on the back.

"Sirius!" It was the voice of Harry Potter, from the stairs. The boy himself ran to Sirius and launched himself into a hug. Sirius embraced him enthusiastically, before asking them all to sit down.

"I have some exciting news for you, Harry," he began. L thought he knew where this was going, and felt his cheeks redden a little. "I'm engaged."

Hermione screamed, and Ron clapped him on the back. "Congrats, mate!" he grinned. Harry looked delighted.

"That's amazing, Sirius!" he exclaimed, his green eyes glistening.

"One more thing," Sirius continued, "We want you to be best man. We were going to ask James, but it was him who suggested you."

"I'd love to," Harry agreed, "It would be an honour."

"We?" Hermione probed, "I didn't know you were with someone at all. Who's 'we'?"

"Me," Sirius began, pausing to take a steadying breath, "and-"

"Remus," Harry interjected, grinning. Sirius nodded, looking relieved.

"How did you know?"

"I've seen the way he looks at you. It's the same way my mum looks at my dad."

Sirius beamed, lost for words. L felt, once again, like he was intruding on something private.

"You've pulled our bloody Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher," Ron accused, "I hope he's not going to miss too many lessons for wedding dress fittings or anything." There was laughter all round and L found himself smiling in spite of himself.

"Don't worry. We're holding it next summer, and you're all welcome to come." He smiled at L, who nodded.

"Congratulations." He smiled, then tilted his head slightly. "Can I ask you something?"

"You can, but whether I'll answer or not remains to be seen," Sirius replied, winking.

"Do you know much about pureblood wizarding families?"

Sirius paused before answering. "I do know some things about ... certain families. What is it that you want to know?"

"I wondered if you could tell me anything about the Gaunt family?" The curious smile faded from Sirius' face. "I believe this ring is an heirloom of that family, which has been passed to me, and I want to find out more about them." He pulled the ring off his finger and passed it to Sirius, who inspected it.

"I don't know too much about that family, except that my own family had business connections with them a few hundred years ago. They were wealthy until about fifty years ago, and when they became bankrupted, people started avoiding them. They say that they were the last remaining descendants of Slytherin himself, so they were probably a nasty lot. This crest is the sign of the Deathly Hallows. A children's story, they say, but nevertheless, some people believe it to be true."

"The Deathly hallows?" L repeated, pressing his index finger to his bottom lip. Sirius passed him back the ring.

"Tell him the story, Sirius!" Ron insisted. Harry nodded, but Hermione looked as bewildered as L felt.

Sirius proceeded to tell the story of the Deathly Hallows - about the three brothers who were granted a wish by Death. One brother received a stone to ressurect the dead. One received a wand to defeat all other wands. The third received an invisibility cloak that would never wear or lose its charm. Out of the three brothers, the first two took their own lives and the third greeted Death as an equal, after passing his cloak down to his son.

"I don't know what connection the Gaunt family have to that story, but I know for a fact that the invisibility cloak from the tale exists." He winked at Harry, who raised his eyebrows and grinned back.

"Thank you for your help," L said, softly, bowing his head towards Sirius.

"Any time," he replied, tilting his own head forwards a little.

* * *

An hour later, Sirius decided he had kept them awake long enough.

"Get to bed, you've got a long day of lessons ahead of you," he reminded them. The three Gryffindors groaned, but L just stared back at him. "Sleep well. I'll see you soon." Sirius started for the door, but all four of the students were on their feet in less time than it took for them to say, "Wait!" Sirius chuckled as the three Gryffindors surrounded him in a hug. L waited until they stepped back, before holding out his hand to the Governor.

"It was a pleasure to meet you." Sirius shook his hand, and nodded, wordlessly.

"Congratulations," Hermione chimed. Ron and Harry echoed her, then Sirius left.

"Goodnight then," Hermione called, disappearing up into the girls' dormitories. Ron and Harry showed L up into their dormitory, where a spare bed was waiting for L. They talked for a little while, but soon the room was quite, the silence being broken from time to time by Ron's snores and Harry muttering in his sleep. By about three o'clock, L was bored out of his mind, unable to fall asleep for wondering if Draco was asleep, if the Slytherins missed him, wondering about the story of the Deathly Hallows, about the Gaunt family, about finding some sweet things to eat.

With a resigned sigh, L hopped off his bed and wandered down to the common room. Hermione was sat by the fire, asleep, with a book in her lap. L nudged her gently.

"What?" she muttered, groggily.

"You fell asleep here. You'd wake up with cramp in the morning. Go to bed."

"L, why are you down here? I was just reading, I couldn't sleep."

"Clearly. I was just heading out to the bathroom," he lied smoothly.

"Don't let me keep you," Hermione yawned. L jumped onto the chair beside her and peered into her book.

"Chess strategies," he read. Hermione gave an embarrassed, soft laugh.

"Yeah. I really want to beat Ronald. It's annoying to lose to someone with the wit and intellect of a Flobberworm."

"I could teach you, if you'll help me."

"With what? I doubt that you need me to help you write a potions essay, or whatever."

"I want to know about girls. I have Draco teaching me manners and how to behave in social situations, but a female point of view would be enlightening. I don't know how to act around them."

"You're fine around me."

"I feel awkward, even if I don't act it." He smiled one of his rare genuine smiles, amused at his own lack of knowledge of this field of society. Hermione gave him a curious look, something like a cross between wanting something and anticipation. L frowned, but before he had time to squeeze out the word, "What?" she had closed the gap between them and her lips were on his. He felt his eyes widen more than they ever had before. Her lips were dry, pressing hard against his mouth, and he didn't like the way it felt at all. He pulled away by falling backwards off the chair.

"Sorry," Hermione stuttered, "I don't know what-"

"It's okay. It helped me learn a little," L lied. "I need to go." Hermione nodded, blushing furiously, before dashing up to the dormitory. L shook his head and licked his lips, then sneaked out of the portrait. The Fat Lady gave him a disapproving look, but thankfully said nothing.

L made it down to the third floor, making little noise with his naked feet, before running into a teacher - Professor Snape.

"What the DEVIL are you doing out of bed this late?" he hissed.

"I need to get a book from the Slytherin common room," L lied.

"Can't it wait until the morning?"

"No, sir. It's keeping me awake worrying about it."

"Why isn't it with you in the first place?"

"Draco was holding onto it for me, but I need it to read before my first class tomorrow."

"Very well. I'll escort you to the dungeons, but you are to stay there until the morning. Understood?"

"Yes Professor."

"And twenty points from Gryffindor. Be grateful I'm not putting you in detention." L thought he saw a slight smile flicker across the potion master's face as he took points from Gryffindor house, rather than Slytherin.

"Yes, sir."

They walked in silence to the Slytherin common room, where L thanked him and entered the dim, cold stone of the dungeon. It felt like he was home, as he took in the green leather, sickly firelight and the back of a blond head in its usual armchair in the corner.

L tiptoed over to Draco, who was reading a book, and tapped him on the shoulder. The blond boy jumped, but turned around.

"L! You scared the shit out of me!" he whispered.

"Sorry."

"What are you doing here?"

"I couldn't sleep," he admitted. "Why are you still up?"

"I couldn't sleep," Draco replied, sticking his tongue out at L.

"Did you miss me?" L teased, climbing onto the chair next to Draco.

"Yes," he responded, simply, without hesitation.

"Is that why you couldn't sleep?" L asked, gently.

"Yes," Draco nodded. "That, and the fact that Blaise is snoring like a bloody mountain troll." They both laughed as silently as they could manage, and Draco snorted when he breathed back in, which made L laugh even more. When they were done, Draco leaned against his friend and rested his head on L's shoulder. His fluffy, ruffled hair smelled like cherries. They turned to look at each other, Draco's grey eyes smiling and warm.

Neither of them was aiming for the chin this time. Draco tilted his face towards L, and they both moved in at the same time. Draco caught L's bottom lip between his own, and L felt his heartbeat rise above normal.

Draco's lips were soft and moist, and more gentle than Hermione's had been. L found himself moving his lips rhythmically against them. He felt Draco's tongue brush against his lower lip, which caused him to breathe out sharply in surprise. The kiss ended as suddenly as it had begun, with the soft sound that the end of a kiss makes. L stared at Draco, who simply stared back. Not a word was said between them and shortly, they were leaning against each other again, the book on Draco's lap forgotten; soon enough they were both asleep.

* * *

Over the next week, L got used to spending the night in the Gryffindor dormitories, though he didn't sleep at all. When he saw Draco in lessons, he didn't mention the kiss they had shared that first night. L assumed Draco had decided to forget it, or had perhaps even been too sleepy to remember it, so he acted as though it had never happened. On the eighth day of term, the students from the other schools arrived at dinner. The girls of Beauxbatons Academy were very beautiful French girls, all dressed in powder blue, and their headmistress a charming half-giantess, who seemed to take a liking to the Care of magical Creatures teacher, Hagrid, right away. The girls went to sit with the Ravenclaw table.

The other school was, as Draco had said, the Durmstrang Institute. All of the students were boys dressed in furs, and apparently one was a famous Quidditch player. Of all of the girls on the Gryffindor table, only Hermione failed to swoon at the sight of him. Instead, she just rolled her eyes, as the Durmstrang boys found seats at the Slytherin table. L felt a twinge in his chest as one of them sat beside Draco, where L usually sat.

Dumbledore introduced the method for the champions' selection for the Tournament. Students of at least 17 years old could place their name and school into a large golden goblet, and the goblet would select the most worthy to compete.

Over the next couple of weeks, L started taking Animagus classes with Professor McGonagall, who had cleared it with the Minisrty. It was difficult and studious, but L was determined to master it. He wasn't allowed to even try a transfiguration until he'd taken an exam, which would take him at least a month to study for, even without sleep.

After a fortnight, the ceremony for the selection of champions was held. The champion for Durmstrang was the famous Quidditch player, Victor Krum. For Beauxbatons it was a girl called Fleur Delacour (who, rumour had it, was part Veela). For Hogwarts, the champion was a Hufflepuff called Cedric Diggory.

In celebration, the feast lasted well into the night, and L fell into bed exhausted and full. For the first time that term, he slept soundly through the night, dreaming of lips and chocolate and blond hair.


	8. Chapter 7

L-Voldemort (L version)

Chapter 7 – Silver Kiss.

By mid-October, L was ready to take his first Animagus exam. It was a written exam involving complicated essay questions about the technical side of transfiguring humans, about laws and etiquette, and about the ethics of Animagi laws. After three gruelling hours in the cold of Professor McGonagall's classroom, L was happy to say that he was finished. All that was left was to wait a week for the results. If he passed, Professor McGonagall would be allowed to train him fully. If he failed, he could give up or take the exam again in six months.

"How did you find it?" the Professor asked as he was leaving.

"Boring," he admitted, "And fairly easy." The last part was a lie, but he wanted to seem unfazed. If he convinced her that he was confident, then he would feel confident himself, he was sure.

With a feeling of achievement and a twinge in his chest he recognised as nervousness, he made his way to the grounds, where the first task of the Tournament was already under way. The Quidditch stands were packed - every student and member of staff from Hogwarts, and the visiting handful from the other two schools were crammed into the seats. As he approached the pitch, L could hear the roar of some sort of large creature, and gasps from the crowd. The golden hoops that occupied the pitch were no longer there, and in their stead was a new rocky terrain. L climbed the stairs to the Gryffindor stand and found a seat between Harry Potter and a nameless first year. The first year's eyes were wider than L thought was actually healthy, and when he turned, he could see why.

Victor Krum was fighting a dragon.

* * *

Bleeding heavily, but proudly clutching his prize of a golden, metallic-looking egg, Krum was helped off the Quidditch Pitch by the medical staff. The dragon handlers - one was a Weasley, L noticed - removed this dragon. Apparently, Krum had been the last to go against a dragon.

"Diggory managed to get past it by transfiguring a rock into a Labrador," Harry told L, as the stands started to empty. "It burnt all his face though. He looked a right state when Madam Pomfrey took him off."

"Fleur put hers to sleep, but it snored and set her skirt on fire," Ron added, grinning.

"Oh please," Hermione huffed, rolling her eyes. "Anyway, L, I think you should try to talk to Krum. He might be able to help you get over your flying problem."

"Like an international Quidditch star like him's going to want to help a fourth year from a rival school," interjected Ron, raising one eyebrow at Hermione.

"L will find a way, won't you?" she smiled, kindly. L considered the idea, and gave a shrug. He filed it in the back of his mind to re-think later.

Through the crowd, L made eye contact with a blond-haired, pale-eyed boy, who met his gaze with a cold glare. L had seen Draco give this look to others, but had never received it himself. It sent a shard of ice through his stomach. What had he done wrong? He could not afford to lose Draco when he was finally starting to make breakthroughs. He forced another thought to the back of his mind - _I don't want to lose my best friend - _and ignored it, although it took a few minutes for his heartbeat to return to normal.

"Are you okay?" Hermione asked, placing a hand on his arm.

"I'm perfectly well," lied L, "I'm just tired from my exam."

"I forgot to ask!" Ron exclaimed, "How did it go?"

"Very well, actually. I get the result in a week."

* * *

Soon, everyone was in the Great Hall, waiting for the feast to begin. The noise was almost unbearable, L thought, so he shrank down in his seat at the Gryffindor table and examined his wand. He cast a very mild Muffliato on himself, which helped dim the noise a bit. His Gryffindor friends were chatting between themselves, so he could just ignore them. He checked his wand over for scratches and imperfections, and fixed them quickly with a slightly complicated charm that he'd found in his Grade 7 spellbook.

Everything fell silent suddenly, so it was obvious that Dumbledore was about to give a speech. L removed the spell from his ears, just as the Headmaster began to talk.

"Good evening ladies and gentlemen. Congratulations are in order for our Champions, once again." He paused so the room could erupt into impressed applause. An Asian girl planted a kiss onto Diggory's lips. L risked a glance at Draco, who caught L's eye then looked away, quickly. In L's old seat Krum sat twirling his wand absently. L felt the stab of coldness again.

"I am very proud to announce that on the night of Christmas Eve this year, a Yule ball will be held. It has been a tradition of the Triwizard Tournament for centuries. As an additional task, the Champions will be opening the Ball with the first dance." Again he paused. Allowing the room to absorb the news. A ripple of talk spread across the tables, until Dumbledore held up his hands again. "Now, before our stomachs take over our listening brains, let's eat!"

The food exploded onto the table. L made immediately for the treacle sponge, and quickly claimed a bowl of cherries for himself. After eating half the sponge and all of the cherries, he sat back, admiring the bowl full of cherry stems which were all tied into knots.

* * *

The first lesson of the next day was Defence Against the Dark Arts. Professor Lupin had promised an interesting but difficult practical lesson, which L felt more than ready for. Having not slept a wink that night, he had read through the textbook for that year, for the eleventh time, so he would be prepared.

The Gryffindors had the class to themselves today, since the Slytherins had been recruited by Professor Snape to do something-or-other in the dungeons.

"Which is why today's lesson is not on the syllabus, but I thought it would be something fun for us to try," Remus explained to the Gryffindors. Harry, Ron and Hermione had greeted Remus very warmly that morning, and it was no wonder he was in such a cheerful mood. With the absence of the Slytherins, everyone seemed in a lighter mood than usual. When Dean Thomas pointed this out, Professor Lupin smiled widely.

"Such an atmosphere is perfect for what we're about to attempt. Now if you'll all settle down a bit, I need to talk you through this carefully. Can anyone tell me what a Patronus Charm is?"

Hermione answered right away. "A Patronus, sometimes known as a spirit guardian, is a magical shield which can be used to protect oneself from attack by Dark magical creatures. They can take the form of a barrier or mist, or can have the form of an animal, which usually reflects the personality of the wizard who casts the charm."

"Perfect, Miss Granger," Professor Lupin beamed. "Yes, a Patronus is a shield used to ward of creatures such as Dementors. You can also use them to relay messages over long distances. They're very difficult to conjure, and most fully qualified wizards struggle to make a corporeal Patronus."

"So why bother trying to teach a bunch of fourth years?" someone called from the back of the class.

"Why not?" came the simple, cheerful reply. An approving murmur ran through the group. They assembled into a semi-circle around the teacher and chanted "Expecto Patronum" after him.

"Now, you have to fill your mind with the happiest memory you can think of. Something that fills you up with happiness. Then concentrate, hold out your wand - hold on to the happy feeling! - and say the incantation. Like this. Expecto Patronum."

A haze of silver poured out of his wand, and slowly formed the shape of a large dog. The class gasped. L wondered languorously what Remus' happy thought had been.

"Now, you try. Remember, happy thought. The happiest you can think of."

Around him, the class screwed up their eyes, some sticking out tongues, and muttered, chanted or shouted the spell. L raked his mind for an uplifting memory of some sort. He felt the stab of cold in his stomach as he recalled Draco's frosty expression, but pushed this away.

_There's one ... _L thought, catching hold of the memory and flooding his mind with it.

_I'm in Wammy's House. I've informed the police about a man who, I have deduced, committed a violent murder, and they just told me I was correct. The man is facing life in prison. I feel proud of myself, like I have won a complicated game. I have defeated the adults, at the age of eight, in a gory game of chess. Wammy is smiling at me. I know what my purpose is now. I know I want to solve the most difficult cases in the world and become the greatest detective the planet has seen, or will ever see._

Filled with the resolve he remembered, L held out his wand and thought the spell. Nothing happened. He felt his confidence waver.

"Expecto Patronum," he murmured. Still nothing. He said it in a louder voice. His wand hand started to shake. He produced not even a wisp of silver. Most of the other students were creating thin fog or small silver shields on their third or fourth try. Harry Potter had managed to half-produce a corporeal Patronus within twenty minutes. The thick silver stream coming from the tip of his wand started to form the rear end of a large mammal, but he sneezed and lost it. By the end of the lesson, L was so frustrated that he hadn't been able to conjure even a trickle of silver, that he had forgotten his happy thought.

Professor Lupin praised the class for the progress they had made, and dismissed them, giving them a homework of "practising the Patronus Charm to show up the Slytherins next lesson". L hung back a little, and waited for the rest of the class to empty out before asking the professor why he hadn't been able to achieve it.

"L, not every wizard can produce a Patronus, no matter how hard they try."

"But I've had no problem with any other spell, even difficult ones from the Grade 7 spellbook," L protested.

"How happy was your happy thought? Was it the happiest moment of your life?"

"It was the proudest moment of my life. The first time I solved a police case myself, and the culprit was sent to prison for life."

"But was it the happiest you've felt? Pride isn't the same as happiness."

"I ... suppose it wasn't," L admitted, realising, with a sinking feeling, that he had felt happier. Pride made him determined. "I'm happier when I'm with ..." L hesitated as an image of Draco popped into his head. It wasn't the Draco he had grown fond of, arrogant but cute, but rather the cold, piercing Draco he had seen recently, across the tables and over crowds in the corridor. "... when I'm with friends."

"You don't have to tell me, L. Fill your mind with the best memory you have with him and try again now," Remus encouraged, gently. L trawled through his mind to find something. He thought of how he felt right after Draco kissed him. The soft rise-and-fall of his chest, the soft blond hair against his cheek, the wetness of his lips, the girlish curl of his pale eyelashes, the gentleness of his fingers as they wrapped around L's own hand ... L fixed these images and feelings in his mind and held out his wand.

"Expecto Patronum," he incanted. A jet of brilliant silver light shot from his wand, forming a circular shape in the air. The cold stab to his stomach returned, and the silver faded with a jolt.

"Very good! There, see, you can do it. You just need to think about happiness differently," Remus smiled. He handed a piece of chocolate to L and sent him on his way.

* * *

L returned to the common room with mixed emotions. He felt glad that he'd been able to produce a kind of Patronus, and grateful to Remus for having helped him so much. At the same time, he felt frustrated at how long it had taken to produce so little, embarrassed at the thought it had taken to produce it, and the cold feeling was still with him.

He spoke the password to the blank dungeon wall and opened the common room. The greenish warmth lifted his spirits slightly, the familiarity of the scent of leather filing his nostrils. He took a deep breath and entered the Slytherin common room.

Two things made his heart jump violently and his stomach drop.

First, he was not supposed to be in the Slytherin common room - he was a Gryffindor, for all intents and purposes, so he could get detention for being here.

Second, there were two people in the common room, joined at the lips, on a sofa, looking very much like they wanted to be left alone. One had very light blonde hair and pointed features. L suddenly felt like he was going to be sick.

He must have made some kind of noise, he realised, since they sprang apart and glared in the direction of the door. The girl had thin black hair, narrow dark eyes and had a sticky-looking substance smeared up her face (lip-gloss, L concluded later).

The pale grey eyes of the boy met L's; the expression on his face was a mixture of apologetic, surprised and annoyed. Without thinking, L strode over to the pair and clouted Draco right on the jaw. After a moment of silent shock and surprise, Draco jumped up from the sofa and returned the blow. L felt annoyance and anger bubble from a place that he didn't know existed in him. With a snarl he'd never heard himself produce before, he threw himself at the taller boy, pushing him to the ground, scratching and punching and kicking like he never had before, uncontrolled, blinded by some emotion he'd never dealt with before.

Draco tried to push L off him, and ended up accidentally dragging a ragged fingernail down the side of L's face, slicing the cheek and the lip, and drawing blood. This seemed to shake L to his senses. He clambered to his feet and shot Pansy Parkinson a withering look, before turning tail and dashing back through the entrance.

* * *

"What was that about?" Pansy managed, after helping Draco to his feet. A bruise was blossoming over his eye, giving him a piteous air. He just shook his head, silently.

"Please don't ask," he murmured. He paused for breath for a minute then apologised to Pansy. She watched, speechless, as the battered wizard left the common room to find his attacker.

* * *

L dashed angry tears from his cheeks, frantically trying to work out what he was crying about, what he was so enraged about. He ran up some stairs, then along a corridor, then up some more stairs. He pushed open a door with a sign on it, which told him it was a bathroom. He blindly pulled himself to the sinks and turned on a tap. Cool water gushed from the rusting metal tap, which L splashed over his face. He slowly got his breath back. As he switched the tap off, he noticed a small carving on the side. He rubbed his eyes and dried his face on the bottom of his white t-shirt. This action revealed a red mark on his skinny torso when Draco's foot had impacted. L couldn't feel it sting. He traced the carving with a finger. It was a small, beautiful snake, with shining eyes and a pointed tail. He noticed it was raised up, like it was supposed to be part of the design of the tap. He worked his way around the circle of sinks, but none of the other taps had the carving.

L ran his finger over the snake again. "Who made you?" he wondered aloud. He jumped back with a strangled cry as the carving moved - it looked like the snake was tuning to look at him. It shut one eye, then opened it again, in a winking gesture. Taken aback, L decided to leave. Hogwarts was a really old castle, after all. Who knew what might happen if he stayed? The carving could be full of dark magic, which was not something he wanted to explore on his own right now. He made a mental note of the location of the bathroom (third floor, girls' toilets) and made his way up the staircases back to Gryffindor Tower.

He allowed his mind to return back to the scene at the Slytherin common room. He couldn't understand why seeing Draco with Pansy like that had made him feel furious. It had come over so suddenly, like the floor had been pulled out from under his feet. He let out a frustrated sigh, as he rounded the corner to the Pink Lady corridor.

He stopped dead in his tracks. Draco was standing beside the portrait nervously rolling and unrolling the sleeve of his robes, glancing up and down the adjoining corridors. When he spotted L, he jumped slightly, then started towards him, chewing on his lip. L noticed, with a twinge of guilt, that Draco was sporting a glowing black eye. It was now that he started to feel the dull throb of the scratch on his own face. He put a finger to his bottom lip, and when he looked there was blood on it.

When they met in the centre of the corridor, they simply stood in silence for a minute. Draco seemed like he couldn't gather the words he wanted to say, whereas L didn't know what to _feel_, let alone how to express it. At last, Draco started.

"That was stupid," he stated.

"What?" retorted L, quickly, "You glaring at me in the corridors for no reason? You acting like you actually give a crap about me, then kissing girls behind my back? Or me feeling betrayed about it? Me hitting you?" Once he'd blurted it out, L felt certain that_ that_ was how he felt. Betrayed.

Draco hesitated. "I didn't glare at you. Besides, you were abandoning me to hang out with those blood-traitors." He spat out the last word, his face contorted with disgust for a moment. His features softened. "I don't know why I was ... you know, doing that. With Pansy. I don't know how I feel sometimes, and it's difficult being friends with you, L, because I like you more than as a friend, but I know you probably don't feel the same, since you're so socially awkward." He paused for breath, then continued. "And then when you were with the Gryffindors I thought I was losing you as a friend, and I couldn't bear that since you're the only real friend I've ever had. I don't know how I feel about liking a boy, too. My father would be angry with me if I ended up being gay, and I know mother wants me to have children and the other Slytherins would make my life a living Hell if I liked boys and kissing Pansy seemed like a good way to throw them off, since I'm sure she was picking up on the fact that I like you. Then when I saw you in the common room just now I felt so guilty. You looked so upset. Then you started hitting me and I don't blame you, I was being a total dick, but I didn't want to hurt you and you were hurting me too, physically I mean, so I was just trying to get you off me, then you were running off and Pansy wanted to know what was going on, but I didn't want to tell her how I feel about you, but I want to tell _you_ so I ran off to follow you. I couldn't see you but I figured you had to come up here some time ..." He trailed off, running out of steam. L had just stood and listened, watching Draco's eyes dart from his eyes to the floor to the cut on his face to the floor again. His heart was in his mouth. He could feel it beating there, and in his ears, and in his cheek where the cut was. His stomach fluttered as Draco's words sank in. The blond boy watched L as his barely-there eyebrows pushed together, then relaxed as realisation dawned on him.

"You do like me?" It was a short simple question, and received a short simple answer: a nod.

"I'm sorry," Draco whispered, his voice suddenly rough, like he was about to cry. L hated it when people cried - it made him feel uncomfortable. His eyes widened in alarm.

"Don't!" he exclaimed, pressing his hand to Draco's eye, his reflexive intention to stop the flow of tears, despite their absence. Draco wince as L's finger brushed the bruise. The finger withdrew, with an apology.

"What's happening to us?" L sighed. "Why can't we just go back to how we were?"

Draco's face split into a smile, suddenly. He was giggling? "Sorry, but that just sounded so cliché," he explained, when L gave him a confused smile.

"Cliché?" L repeated slowly. Draco nodded.

"Let's just forget this fight," he said, in a tone that was asking for permission. "Please, and I won't kiss anyone else."

L considered for a moment. A voice in his mind was screaming, yes! Forgive him! Get your best friend back! But there was another part of L that was still smarting from the event. After a rapid internal battle, the former emotion won, so L nodded yes, he would forget the fight. With a relieved sigh, Draco pulled him into a hug. L buried his face into Draco's shoulder, inhaling the familiar smell of chocolate and deodorant. He felt his heartbeat relent a little and allowed himself to relax into the warmth of his friend's body.

"I missed you," he found himself saying. He coughed out a sob. They held onto each other for a few minutes more then Draco stepped backwards. L let his eyes follow the line of the cut down his face.

"I'm sorry about your face. Is it okay?" Draco asked, tentatively touching the crusting blood on L's cheek.

"It's fine."

"It's not," Draco protested.

"It's not," L admitted. He allowed his eyes to flicker shut for a second. He could better gauge the pain that way. When his eyes opened again, Draco had moved closer. He could feel his breath on his face. "My lip is really sore where you scratched it," he continued. "And there's a forty per cent chance that one of my ribs is bruised."

Draco gave a sudden snort of laughter. "There's a forty per cent chance," he repeated, in a mocking voice. His eyes were friendly though. He was teasing. "You're so weird, L."

L's eyes widened with embarrassment. Was he really that strange? Before he could roll the thought over in his mind too much, Draco was kissing him again. He felt a pair of slender hands grip his hips. Automatically, L threaded one hand into Draco's hair, not startled this time as a hot tongue slid across his lip. He let his other hand snake around Draco's neck, pulling him nearer. In response, Draco dug his fingers into L's hips, urging him to move closer.

With a small sharp sting, the cut on L's lip opened up. He made an uncomfortable noise in his throat, but Draco was licking the blood away, kissing the wound back together. L felt like it was their friendship being healed too, to some extent. He broke the kiss for a second, meaning to ask Draco something, but the sight of his own blood on the other boy's mouth made him forget his thought. His breath caught in his throat, his usually wide eyes narrowing with a kind of lust. He couldn't stop himself - he licked and sucked the blood from Draco's mouth, digging his narrow fingers into the boy's neck. He bit down hard, his teeth breaking the delicate skin on Draco's lower lip. He tasted blood. A quick, harsh moan from Draco's throat - L could not fathom the meaning. He was pushing Draco against the wall, kissing him, ripping into his lips and his tongue with his sharp teeth. Draco wasn't trying to stop him, but was pulling him nearer.

Someone nearby cleared their throat very loudly. The two boys jumped apart like they were separated by a bolt of lightning. Professor McGonagall was standing not ten paces away, looking slightly embarrassed.

"Sorry to ... er ... interrupt you, boys, but it's a very important matter."

Draco was turning an odd shade of rose. He pressed a hand to his bleeding mouth, looking like he wanted the ground to open up. L breathed in heavily to slow his racing heart. He licked his lips, peering up at the teacher through widened eyes, in askance. He noticed with a pang of emotion that his posture was odd - his back was straight. He'd had to straighten his back a little to kiss the taller boy properly, he realised afterwards.

"Mr Lawliet, the headmaster wants to see you. I don't believe it myself, and Professor Dumbledore doesn't either, but you understand, of course, that we have to investigate these things thoroughly." She paused, looking a little flustered.

"What is it?" L asked, as calmly as he could manage.

"A Muggle-born girl was attacked in the grounds, and nobody would have suggested it was you, of course. Only she was found with these." She held out her hand, and resting in her palm were five cherry stems, each tied into a knot.

L's eyes widened even further, until they seemed to be bulging. His heart thumped uncomfortably. He'd been with Draco since the end of class. He turned to the blond boy, who was looking at him with an odd expression. He'd swear he looked afraid, if L didn't know any better. His mouth throbbed.

He stared at the cherry stems for a moment, then to McGonagall, then back to Draco.

Was someone trying to frame him for this sudden attack?


	9. Chapter 8

L-Voldemort (L version)

Chapter 8 – Honesty.

L noticed, with a twinge of embarrassment, that a small crowd was gathering around them. Draco was giving them his best Slytherin-glare, but this was blunted by his glowing cheeks and bleeding mouth. Professor McGonagall shot them all a sharp look, which cleared them out of the corridor pretty quickly.

"I am sorry, but I do need you to come with me, L," she continued. She turned to Draco. "And I suggest you get yourself down to the hospital wing to have that seen to." She gestured towards the thin stream of blood trickling down Malfoy's hand, which was pressed over his lips. He gave a meek nod then hurried off down the corridor, throwing L an apologetic look over his shoulder.

"I don't know what you've done to him, but he's turning out to be less of a pain these days," McGonagall commented softly, leading L to the stairs. L followed her in silence, mulling the situation over in his mind. If someone had planted the cherry stems on the girl - who was she, anyway? - then they were clearly intent on framing L for the attack. After all, who else was there in the school that tied their cherry stems into knots like that? Since L was well-known as "Slytherin's heir", he had a high profile in the school, so anyone could know about his habits. That didn't narrow down his list of suspects at all. It would have to be someone who was already in the castle, or nearby the castle, at the time of attack, since the attack occurred in the grounds. It would have to be someone who had a grudge against this girl, or Muggle-borns in general, and also against L himself. It would most likely be someone older than the girl, so he (or she) could overpower her.

L's brain clicked into detective mode. He made a rapid list of potential suspects in his head. Or rather, he came up with a profile that would suit the suspect of this crime. He felt a sudden rush of adrenaline. It felt like he was home again.

"Mint humbugs." Professor McGonagall's voice snapped him out of it for a moment. They had reached a stone gargoyle on ... L wasn't even sure which floor. It had slanted, deep-set eyes, and a vicious smile. Stone fangs protruded from stone lips, which were canine in appearance. It spread the claws of a cold, grey hand and gestured for them to enter. Then it moved out of their way, revealing a spiral staircase. L was pushed up these stairs, to a large oak door. McGonagall knocked once, and it swung open. They came into a huge, round room filled with books and interesting-looking artefacts. There was a shimmering, orange-coloured bird standing on a shelf at the far end.

Finally, L's eyes came to rest on the adults in the room. Professor Dumbledore was sitting behind a large desk, peering over his half-moon glasses, his chin resting on his hands, which were folded together as though in prayer. Next to him was Snape, clutching a small transparent phial, in which there was a colourless liquid. There was a man who L had never seen before, wearing Muggle clothes. At the back of the room, gazing out of the leaded window was Lucius Malfoy. L felt a twinge, but was too preoccupied to recognise the emotion.

"Thank you for joining us, L," Dumbledore began, gently. "I want to make it clear to you, and everyone else in this room, that I do not believe you to be the attacker in question here. However, the young lady's father has asked us to administer Veritaserum anyway, to make sure. Since news of your ... heritage has come out, people are wary of you. With your connection to the Malfoy family, as well ..." He trailed off, glancing backwards to Lucius, who wasn't paying attention. He cleared his throat. "As protocol, I have to show you the warrant from the Ministry allowing me to administer the potion." He handed a piece of parchment to L, who narrowed his eyes as he pretended to read it. He'd read about Veritaserum. It was the most powerful truth potion, used to get information from prisoners during warfare. It could cause someone to spill their darkest secrets, if they were asked the right questions under its influence.

L felt sick. The Ministry was supposed to be limiting and monitoring its use as much as possible. So why on Earth would they be allowed to use it on a fourteen year old? It made L wonder about the nature of the attack.

A thought struck him. Maybe it was linked to the Muggle killings! Since he'd started at Hogwarts, there had been cases of Muggles being murdered in a distinctively magical way, perhaps three or four times a year. The Ministry had no leads so far, according to the Daily Prophet. So if this attack showed the same characteristic signs as the Muggle killings, of course they would want to investigate it so thoroughly and intensively. His eyes widened as he made this connection.

"Please take a seat, L." Dumbledore gestured towards a comfy-looking armchair against on of the walls. L jumped onto it, after handing the parchment back. He balanced lightly on the balls of his feet, hunching over. In detective mode, L went back to his default posture. "Severus, the serum," Dumbledore nodded. Professor Snape handed the phial to L.

"Only take three drops," he advised, "Or you'll be spouting the truth for days." His eyes flickered to the blood on L's mouth, then his eyebrow arched, as if to say "and we don't want to know everything that's been going on, to be honest".

L nodded, to show he'd understood, then stuck out his tongue. He partially removed the stopper then shook three drops of the liquid out. He swallowed hard, so the potion could start to work. The taste caused him to screw up his eyes. It tasted like bitter chocolate which has been left under some rusty metal for a month.

"Ugh," said L, disgusted. The potion started to affect him almost right away. After a moment or two, he felt himself relax. Lies, which formulated in his mind reflexively, dissolved and the truths of things skipped to the front. His brain felt looser, somehow, like his skull had grown bigger. His eyelids dropped slightly. He pressed a hand to his forehead. "It feels like I'm high."

Dumbledore chuckled softly. "Shall we begin?" Approving mutters from the others told him he should. "Your name, please."

"L Lawliet. At least, I think that's my name. It might not be. It's just what I was called at Wammy's house so I could have had another name before that." L spoke in a flat voice, feeling the words tumble from his mouth with no ability to control them. He felt his cheeks heat up slightly as, somewhere in the loose haze, he wondered if he'd be able to stop himself revealing anything too personal.

"What is your relationship with Draco Malfoy?" the next question came, from Dumbledore.

"Albus!" McGonagall exclaimed, "That's not an appropriate question for this!"

"Going by the book, one must ask two questions to confirm the interviewee is under the influence of the potion. We must ask questions we know the answers to already. You know this, Minerva." Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling, though, so McGonagall just frowned.

"To answer your question," L interrupted, "Draco Malfoy is my best friend, although he told me today that he likes me as more than a friend. Since I'm very inexperienced with such social situations, I wasn't sure how to react. I'm not disappointed - quite the opposite. I like him too. But is the correct thing to do in this situation to tell him, or just to let him spell out his feelings? So I let him talk. He ranted for a long while, actually. He was apologising for earlier. We'd had a fight in the Slytherin common room after Defence Against the Dark Arts because I saw him kissing Pansy Parkinson and I was jealous, so I hit him-"

"Enough!" Lucius Malfoy bellowed. "We don't need to hear this ... this verbal diarrhoea. Get to the point, _Dumbledore_." The headmaster's name was spoken with venom, which contorted Malfoy's pointed face for a second.

"Of course," replied Dumbledore, calmly. "L, can you tell me why you missed dinner this evening?"

"Yes." L felt the haze in his head thicken slightly. He rocked back onto his heels and sank into a sitting position."I feel really weird, is that normal?"

McGonagall muttered something about "oxymoron", but Dumbledore nodded and gestured for him to continue.

"Well, I was late anyway, because I stayed back after Defence Against the Dark Arts. Remus was-"

"Professor Lupin," Snape corrected.

"Professor Lupin, then," L repeated, "Did you know he's getting married?"

"Get to the point," Lucius snapped.

"Professor Lupin was teaching us how to cast a Patronus Charm, and I just couldn't do it, which was weird since I've never had any trouble with any spell before. So he helped me for a little while until I managed a little one, but I was still annoyed with myself for being so slow. So I went back to the common room to sulk. However, in my haste, I went to the Slytherin common room instead of the Gryffindor one. That's when I saw Draco with Pansy, so we had a fight. He scratched me right down my face which snapped me out of it. I was really upset so I ran to the girls' bathroom on the third floor. Don't misunderstand. I didn't go there intentionally. It was the first bathroom I came across and I didn't look too closely at the sign on the door. There was nobody in there anyway. I washed my face in there and I found a carving of a snake on the tap."

He described how he'd spoken to it in Parseltongue and that it had winked at him. Snape and Dumbledore had a brief, hushed discussion at this point, and L fell silent.

"Minerva, I'd like you to fetch Professor Lupin, please," Dumbledore instructed after a few minutes. "Severus will go ahead to the bathroom to look at this carving."

Professor McGonagall was gone in seconds. L licked his lips, leaning back against the chair. He felt like he was going to fall asleep, or pass out.

"How long does this potion last? I feel unwell."

"It shouldn't have any side effects," Snape murmured.

"Well, it is having side effects," L replied, his words slurring slightly. The fog was spreading from his mind into the room. His pulse started to throb painfully in his ears.

"I prepared the Veritaserum myself," Snape exclaimed, waving his arms towards Dumbledore.

"I'm not accusing ... antidote to the ..."

"What?" L muttered. The scene was fading from view, like something was dragging him backwards into his own mind. He frowned, forcing his eyes to open wider. Snape was pulling something out of his cloak, saying something about emergencies. With a soft groan, and the beginning of a swear in Japanese, L slipped from the chair, into the blackness of the haze.

* * *

Snape pushed the bezoar into the unconscious boy's mouth. At the same time, McGonagall entered the office with Remus Lupin and Sirius Black, both of whom looked considerably ruffled and embarrassed. McGonagall looked annoyed, and was muttering something about "what is it with gay...twice that's happened today...no shame...animals..."

Remus started when he saw L's figure slumped on the floor. Dumbledore rose from his seat.

"Remus, I need you to go to the girls' bathroom on the third floor and investigate the sinks. There seems to be some remnant of Salazar Slytherin in there and we need to make sure it's safe. Sirius, would you be so kind as to fetch Draco Malfoy from the hospital wing?"

"Yes, headmaster." The two men left and McGonagall rushed to the headmaster's side.

"What happened?" she asked.

"The Veritaserum was poisoned," Snape explained, "And I can't work out how or when, so don't even ask." He was trying to revive the boy, but to no avail.

"Don't panic, Severus. Give the bezoar a chance to work," Dumbledore soothed.

"I know!" Snape snapped.

"Is there anything I can do?" Mr Smith - the attacked girl's father - asked. Dumbledore shook his head no.

There was a lull in activity, until Sirius returned with Draco, whose mouth was still bleeding steadily - but his black eye was gone. He spotted L, who was now lying on his side, and paled even more than usual. He tried to speak, but only a choked noise came out. McGonagall saw with a stab of pity that he had tears in his eyes. She looked to Lucius and raised her eyebrows in a way that was calculated to say "comfort your son", but Malfoy just glared at him.

"Pull yourself together Draco, he's not dead."

Draco sniffed loudly, then rubbed his eye, smearing blood over his face. Lucius wrinkled his nose. McGonagall offered Draco a handkerchief, which he accepted.

"Sorry to give you a shock. The Veritaserum we gave him was poisoned, it seems," she explained. Draco just nodded numbly.

"Draco, I need you to confirm that L was with you at dinner time this evening." Dumbledore's stedy blue gaze seemed to calm Draco a little.

"Yes," he said, after a moment, "He was in the Slytherin common room with me, then he went off somewhere-"

"The third floor bathroom," McGonagall nodded.

"Then he was in Gryffindor tower. He was only separated from me for a couple of minutes. It wasn't long enough to get down to the grounds and back, even on a broom."

"Okay. Thank you Draco. Will that be enough to satisfy the Ministry?" Dumbledore added, turning to Lucius, who nodded once. He returned to his window.

L coughed. His face constricted, then smoothed out again as he woke up. Draco dropped to his knees beside the boy and helped him into a sitting position.

"Doushita no...?" L gasped, inhaling heavily.

* * *

"What happened?" he repeated. The fog was gone from his head, but he felt like he'd been punched in the chest. He forced his eyes open. Draco's crystal grey eyes met them, his pointy features drawn together with worry.

"Are you okay?" he whispered. L shook his head.

"No, I feel like I've been kicked by a horse."

"I've written a letter to the Ministry explaining your innocence, L," Dumbledore called, from the doorway. "I'm going to send it now. Professor McGonagall and Mr Black are going to investigate the third floor bathroom. Mr Smith, Mr Malfoy, would you kindly follow me...?" Dumbledore gestured for the Muggle and Draco's father to come with him. To the Owlery, L presumed. Lucius glared at L, then gave his son a disgusted look before following the headmaster.

The room emptied rapidly, leaving L, Draco and Snape together in the office. The Potions Master and his pupil helped L onto the armchair.

"I'll fetch Madame Pomfrey. I won't be long," said Snape, in reassuring tones. Draco nodded, and clutched L's hand. The door slammed shut behind the professor.

"Draco, I need to tell you something, while the Veritaserum's still affecting me. I won't know how to say it otherwise," L murmured.

"Okay. I'm listening." He lifted his other arm to stem the blood flowing from his mouth.

"First of all, I'm sorry I ruined your mouth. I don't know what came over me. It was a good idea at the time." He allowed the words to tumble from his mouth, his eyes opening wider as he became more awake.

"I understand," Draco replied. "It was good at the time. Once I learn the spell for fixing this-" he waved his arm towards his face then covered his mouth again, "-you can do that any time you like."

L gave a soft but hearty laugh. "Also, what you said earlier, about how you like me as more than a friend. I've been thinking, and the truth potion helped me realise that ..." He paused for a moment, the words slipping from his grasp as the potion was wearing off. "I realised that ..." Draco was watching him with an encouraging smile, but L faltered. Suddenly, his mind became noisy again. The lies that he'd though of and told through the years sprang back to the foreground. L made a frustrated noise.

"What?"

"I can't remember. The potion's worn off," L sighed, slapping the arm of the chair.

"It doesn't matter," Draco shrugged. He squeezed L's hand and stood up. "Are you feeling better?"

"It _does_ matter. I wanted to tell you that I like you, but I've forgotten how to say it. This is the time when I wish I had social skills," he growled, standing up too. Draco turned slowly to face him.

"You just said you like me back," he pointed out, "all by yourself." L frowned at him. When he realised that this was, in fact, true, his eyes widened again, his heart thumping.

"I did not," he retorted, his cheeks burning. Draco laughed aloud at him and pulled him into a warm hug. L let himself melt into Draco's strong, slender arms. With the haze gone, and the odd sensation of having recovered from poisoning, L needed a good hug. He brushed his cut cheek against Draco's soft hair. It was getting long. It still smelled like the softly fruit-scented shampoo Draco had been using since he was eleven. It made L feel safe when he smelled it; like nothing could get him, or bother him, because Draco's arms were around him and their hearts were beating together.

"What have you done to me?" breathed Draco, echoing McGonagall's earlier sentiments. "Have I always been this soft?"

"No," L snorted, "You're not soft. You have half the school scared of you just because you're a Slytherin. And the other half hate you because you're a Malfoy."

Draco's arms dropped from around L's waist. "Thanks," he huffed. He turned away.

"You act like a girl," L added, bluntly.

"Are you sure that potion's worn off?" Draco asked, one slender eyebrow raised. L ignored him. He took hold of one of Draco's hands, holding it delicately as though it was dirty.

"I've figured out the profile of the attacker," he said quietly, to change the subject. "I'm ninety per cent certain that, given the time and resources, I'd be able to track down the attacker in three months, or in as little as five weeks if I use magic to assist my outstanding brain. I can't believe the Ministry haven't caught on to him yet, he's being so obvious. It's like he wants me to catch him."

Draco was silent for a moment. "What do you mean?"

"I know the attacker _must_ be the same person as the Muggle killer. It must be one person working alone, otherwise the Ministry would have caught them. One person can be more successful in a serial crime like this than a group of people. It's most likely to be a pure-blood, since he's only attacked Muggles and Mudbloods so far. I say 'he' but I'm more convinced that it would be a female, since more females have died than males in the Muggle attacks, and the student attacked was a girl, but there was no evidence of sexual abuse before or after the deaths. It would have been reported. Of course, I can't assume much more than that until I've seen one of the bodies and spoken to the girl who was attacked."

Draco's eyes were wide. "You're bloody amazing, you know that?"

"Yes. And I also know that I can't convince the ministry to let me work on this case until I have more facts, so please don't relay this information to anyone."

Miming a zipping motion over his mouth with his free hand, Draco ended up smearing more blood over his face. L frowned and licked his finger. As he was rubbing some of the crusting blood from Draco's face, the oak door flew open, bringing a gust of cold air in. The two boys automatically let go of one another.

Dumbledore gave a chuckle, and gestured for the other adults to enter first. Lucius stormed in, his pale hair fanning out behind him. He strode to the desk, walking stick in hand. He was followed by Mr Smith, who looked worried, then McGonagall, and finally Snape and Madame Pomfrey, both of whom looked rather grave.

Madame Pomfrey hurried over to L and Draco. She thrust a potion into Draco's hand and told him to drink it. He did so, as she examined L. She poked her wand in his ear and checked the size of his pupils.

"You need to sleep more and you should eat some chocolate as soon as you can, but you're fine," she concluded, after a few minutes of poking and peering. Dumbledore stopped his quieted chat with Snape to fetch a chocolate frog from a drawer, which he handed to L. While he ripped it open and ate it, Professor McGonagall had her turn to speak.

"We've confirmed the existence of the carving and Remus thinks that it's most likely something to do with the Chamber of Secrets."

The room fell silent. L looked to Professor Dumbledore, confused. He didn't know what this meant.

"We need to go and investigate this right away," he instructed. "L, I need you to come with us. Draco, please go back to the hospital wing." He didn't issue any more orders, but the adults all seemed to know where they were needed. L followed McGonagall, Snape and Dumbledore down the spiral staircase, the chocolate he'd just swallowed restoring his strength. It felt like a fire had been relit inside his chest. With his detective brain in gear, his posture was hunched. He gave an encouraging nod to Draco, as if to say "I'll be fine". Then, the office fell out of sight. He turned his gaze to the backs of the teachers.

"What is the Chamber of Secrets?" he asked in a flat voice. McGonagall shot him a puzzled look.

It was Snape who explained. "When the Founders were alive, Salazar Slytherin is said to have created a secret chamber somewhere in the school, but nobody knew the location until now."

They were power-walking down an empty corridor by now, the light outside the windows fading into night-time gloom. L considered the possibilities of what the purpose of such a chamber could be. He licked the last of the chocolate off his lips and glanced at the Chocolate Frog Card he still had in his hand. It was Salazar Slytherin. L felt goosebumps raise along his arms.

He stuffed the card into his pocket then ran a little to catch up with the three teachers. Before he knew it, they were on the third floor, facing the bathroom. L could hear a conversation through the door, but couldn't make out the words. There were two male voices, one sounded calm, the other was panicky. When Dumbledore pushed the door open, it was Remus uttering soothing words to Sirius, not the other way around as L had expected. Sirius was pointing at the sink with the carving. L pushed past the adults. He felt his stomach flutter as he tried to remember how he'd spoken in Parseltongue before.

"Who made you?" he said, the words coming out as a fine, elegant hiss. The snake lifted its head and winked. The teachers all gasped.

"Don't open it Albus, please. Just seal it up, we don't need to know what's in there," Sirius implored. L felt his brows push together in puzzlement. Why was Sirius so afraid? It couldn't just be a magical carving, then. There was more to it that they weren't telling him.

Suddenly the snake carving moved again. It opened its mouth and let out a stream of snake-talk. L felt the sounds slot into place in his mind.

"In your pocket..."

L pulled the card out of his pocket. Snape peered over his shoulder and gave a soft grunt.

"My blood, but not my brain..." the snake hissed. "My blood, but not my heart... My blood, but not my true heir ..."

"What's it saying?" Sirius was staring at the sink. Remus placed a hand on his fiancé's back.

"Calm yourself, Sirius," he soothed.

"It's telling me that I have Slytherin's blood," L explained. "But that Slytherin and I are not similar." He repeated the exact words the snake had said. Behind him, he heard Dumbledore give quick instructions to the other teachers. They all pulled out their wands and said an incantation. L started back towards the door. Since they didn't need him now, he might as well leave. There was a loud grating sound behind him. This was followed by a large crash, then the sound of bodies hitting stone floor.

"DUCK!" someone shouted, but it was too late.

L felt something hard hit him on the back of the head.

For the second time that evening, he blacked out.


	10. Chapter 9

L-Voldemort (L version)

_Author's Note: Sorry for taking so long to update! Here's the next chapter. It's shorter than previous chapters, as I first intended it to be an unrelated-to-the-plot one-shot kind of chapter, but somehow it ties to the next chapter in the main story, so please enjoy it and wait patiently for the next instalment! Thank you so much for continuing to read this, and your comments and encouragements mean a lot to me. This chapter is dedicated to Emsi and Pockets, who nag me periodically to update this fic. I love you guys, srsly. Cuteness for Emsi, and the ending's to amuse Pockets, I think. ^w^_

_Please be warned, there's a mild suggestive theme here, and suggestions of underage sex, so please don't continue if that would offend you. The suggestive theme will probably continue into following chapters, too, just to warn you. That is, if the plot goes as I intend. Sometimes I plan something, then the characters run off and change it completely, as in the previous chapter ... anyway, I've said too much! Please enjoy this chapter, and consider it fanservice if nothing else!_

_(I'd also like to add, the things in the story that don't seem to add up, such as the difference in time between young Tom Riddle and young L, will be explained within the later chapters of the story. It's not all a mess-up, I promise! By the way, the story is about half way through as I've planned it so far. Please wait patiently and thank you for sticking with me so far!)_

_Lady Mirelle_

* * *

Chapter 9 – Alice and the Hare.

A clock struck midnight somewhere in the castle. Sat in front of a sickly glowing fire, his feet curled up under him on the emerald leather sofa, Draco shivered. The hour of midnight always gave him the creeps, and he wasn't sure why. It just seemed like, if there was any time for something odd to happen, it would be midnight. He'd thought it ever since he was a small child, even though his father had cruelly scolded him if he'd ever mentioned it. His eyebrows drew together at the thought, and he gave another shudder, though he was wrapped in his Hogwarts robes and the fire was roaring before him. He was starting to lose grip on his concentration. If L was here, thought Draco, he'd tell me to stop being illogical and either focus or go to bed. So the blond wizard threw his textbook onto the table and heaved a sigh. He started to push himself up from the chair, when the door leading out of the common room to the dungeon swung open.

Draco's face split into a familiar grin, his heart beating a little too quickly than it probably should, as he recognised the oddly-stooping figure in the doorway. Before he could even form L's name, intending to ask why he was here and not in the Gryffindor common room, the other boy brought a finger to his lips to signal for Draco to be silent. Draco nodded, to show he understood. The rest of the Slytherins would be fast asleep by now, after all.

L was carrying two boxes, quite long and flat. He slowly walked towards his friend ... his boyfriend? ... with an uncharacteristic gleam in his eye. He handed one of the boxes to Draco, who was standing on the sofa by now, leaning over to receive the gift. L held up one finger, to say "wait a minute", then loped off in the direction of the boys' dormitories. When he'd vanished into the darkness of the stairwell, Draco slid back down onto the sofa, prising the lid off the box as he did so.

There was a pile of blue and white fabric. On top was a slip of paper, which simply said, "Wear me." Draco's heart thumped harshly in his chest. Without thinking, he was already slipping out of his robe, the black material pooling about him like a warm shadow. Next to come off was the tie, a shred of green lost against the green leather of the sofa. Draco was on autopilot, his mind detaching itself from his body as he undressed. What L had said only hours before, he hadn't been joking after all.

"I dislike jokes," he'd said, but Draco couldn't take him seriously.

But here he was, being true to his word. Draco felt almost sick with excitement. At last, after all they'd been through, it was going to happen.

With only his trousers left on, Draco pulled the costume from its box. There was a dress, in light blue. His heart gave an embarrassed stutter, and he almost whimpered out loud. It was a female costume. It wasn't bad enough that the whole school was shunning him for being gay, but now L wanted him to cross-dress? This seemed a bit unfair to poor Draco, who slipped the cotton dress over his head, but he had called L an evil bastard not very long ago, hadn't he? Perhaps this was payback.

Next out of the box was a white apron. Draco tied it around his neck in a neat bow, then did the same around his waist. He paused to kick off his trousers, suffering his third shudder of the night. This time it was in anticipation, though. He bit down on his lower lip - completely healed and recovered by now - as he tugged the knee-length socks on. He tied the black bow around his hair, silently cursing L for making him do this, then pulled out the last item from the box, a pair of black leather doll-style shoes. He let out an audible growl as he slid his feet into them. A perfect fit, of course. After fastening the clasps, Draco tugged at the skirt of the dress, wanting it to be longer. How was it that it stuck out so much, anyway?

Draco picked up the paper again, shaking his head. He wondered if it was time to go upstairs. He decided it was, so shoved the box underneath the sofa and started the short climb up the dorm stairs.

His pale, drawn face felt like it was burning with embarrassment. What if one of the other boys woke up and saw him like this? He sucked in a breath and pushed open the door to the dormitory. Still holding his breath, he looked around the circular room. Velvet drapes hid them, but Draco could hear their snores and slow breathing. After checking each bed in sight from the doorway, he blew his breath out as quietly as he could.

"Muffliato," he heard someone whisper from the other side of the pillar in the centre of the room. It was L's flat voice, unmistakably, with its Asian lilt. Deeming it safe to move now, Draco walked slowly around the room to his own bed on the far side. In the barely-there moonlight, he could see L perching on his bed, balancing on the balls of his naked feet, his position hunched like Quasimodo, his perpetually-tired face a mask of indifference, his dark eyes glistening with some kind of emotion.

Draco felt his own emotions working and changing rapidly inside him. His cheeks still aflame with embarrassment, his heart pounded even more ferociously than before as he stepped forward to see L properly. He couldn't help but smile at the dark-haired boy's costume.

Two long, grey rabbit ears stuck out of his tangled black hair. He wore a simple shirt with a red cravat at his throat, a quilted red waistcoat and simple grey trousers which looked a size too big for him, as usual. To finish it all, he had painted a black nose and whiskers onto his face. He held a china teacup daintily with finger and thumb, as though the handle were dirty. He took a long, noisy slurp, keeping eye contact with Draco, then set the cup onto the bedside table next to a plate of half-eaten chocolate cake. He picked up a gold pocket watch - where had it come from? Draco wondered feverishly - and stared at it for a second, before placing it next to the cup.

"Alice," L breathed, almost too quietly to hear, "You're late for tea."

Draco opened his mouth, the words "what the fuck?" forming on his tongue. But before he could say them, L had hopped - literally - off the bed and pressed a finger to Draco's lips.

"Good girls like Alice don't use words like that," L whispered, his chocolate-scented breath warming Draco's red cheeks. Draco's eyebrows pushed upwards, slanted in confusion, as he tried to get his head around the strange game L was playing. He swayed towards L slightly, meaning to kiss him, but the boy shuffled out of reach then crouched and hopped back onto the bed.

"You look really cute," said L, in a bored voice, his glittering eyes penetrating Draco's. Absently, Draco wondered if he'd put a charm on them to make them shinier, as his blush deepened. He clasped his hands together and bowed his head at L's compliment. He was feeling most unlike his usual, proud self. The situation made him feel humble and inferior to the mysterious wizard L, whose game was making the grey-eyed, blushing boy shiver with excitement and anticipation.

Draco could only watch as L picked up the plate of cake and brought a morsel to his lips. He left it there, poking out of his mouth, as he replaced the plate. He stared and stared at Draco from his crouching position on the bed, until "Alice" understood what he wanted. He tiptoed forwards and leaned towards L. Carefully he placed his lips around the visible part of the chocolate cake, its sweet aroma filling his mouth and nostrils. Pressing down gently, he broke the cake. His lips brushed L's, which were wet. He couldn't resist pulling the cake into his mouth with his tongue, so he could kiss L better. After a short second of moving his lips against L's, he felt his friend's tongue slide out and lick the chocolate from his mouth. Their tongues lingered together for less than a heartbeat, but Draco felt his knees weaken.

L's hands pushed against Draco's chest, causing him to stagger backwards a step. Their lips parted with a soft pop then Draco felt his heart lurch as L started to shift position. He lifted one foot up and spun on the other, so he was facing away from Draco. Then he planted his hands and his other foot on the mattress, a small puff of a cottontail standing up from where his coccyx would end. In the barely-there moonlight, Draco could see every contour of L's young body. A ragged sound tore from his throat. Glad of the Muffliato spell, he stepped forwards. Their eyes met for a heart-splitting, knee-collapsing moment as L turned his head. Draco's face split into an unfamiliar grin, his eyes beginning to sparkle like L's had earlier.

His skirt rustling around his thighs, Draco reached out for L in the darkness.


	11. Chapter 10

L-Voldemort (L version)

Chapter 10 – Click.

L fell out of his dream heavily, his heart aching with the loss of a fantasy. He shifted, an attempt to get more comfortable but pain shot through his limbs like lightning. A loud groan escaped his lips, which he licked. They tasted metallic and felt crusty. He tried to open his eyes. He cried out with pain as his eyelashes snagged on something, his vision blurry. He could barely make out the shape of a person lying close to him.

"Who...?" he began, but the words grated his throat.

"Masssssster..." a serpentine voice slurred, not too far away.

"Hello?" L whispered, away that he would be speaking Parseltongue. He struggled to push himself into a sitting position. His left wrist felt broken and he could feel something warm and gooey oozing down his face. He raised a hand to his forehead. A flash of white pain coursed through the open wound on his scalp. L came over dizzy. His skull was broken.

"Masssssssster, what do you command?" the snake-like voice repeated.

"Where ... are you?" L gasped, trying to stand up. He staggered to his feet then immediately wished he hadn't. He clutched the nearest column to keep his balance. It was smooth and scaly, dry and moving slightly.

"Bessssside you..."

"What are you?" L gulped, trying to drag air into his lungs. He guessed that some ribs were broken. What the Hell had happened?

"Basilissssssk," the creature hissed, its rancid breath filling L's nostrils. he doubled over, his stomach heaving and emptying onto the stone floor of the bathroom. "Born a thousssssand yearsss ago."

"Syltherin." L choked out the name.

"Yesssss." Another wave of the caustic scent of rotting flesh assaulted his nose. He kept his stomach still this time and coughed to clear his throat. He spat onto the floor.

"What are you doing here?"

"I do my masssster's bidding." L felt the monster shift. He could make out the outline of it, raising its head with pride.

"I, the heir of Salazar Slytherin, am your master. Correct?" L croaked. He swayed weakly, blood trickling from his head into his mouth.

"Yessss."

"Then I command you, monster, to return to your hovel and stay there for another thousand years, until my heir commands otherwise." He let go of the basilisk and stood on his own. He heard it slide away to ... who knew where? Still swaying slightly, L took a step forward. He scanned the room and counted the bodies of people lying on the floor. He thought there was someone missing from the group which had entered the bathroom, but couldn't put his finger on who it would be. Rubble and blood everywhere, the bathroom looked like a war zone.

Vaguely, L registered shouting that sounded like it was coming from far away. The remaining contents of his stomach exploded from his mouth as the door flew open. Someone screamed, but the world was disappearing from L for the third time that day. Aware that he was falling into his own vomit, but unable to stop himself, L collapsed. The wound in his skull split open further and the young detective slipped out of consciousness.

* * *

L's eyes fluttered open. He didn't feel any pain. Was he dead? This must be heaven, because he could smell Draco close to him. Fruit-scented shampoo, chocolate and sweat. But it was faint, more like the memory of a smell. He could feel Draco in his arms though, could hear his breath and feel his heartbeat.

L looked down at his friend, who was sleeping. Draco had a bow tied in his blond hair and was wearing a blue dress. That's how it seemed in the moonlight. L's mind cleared and filled with disappointment. This wasn't heaven, but merely the continuation of his dream.

Somewhere in the distance, a werewolf howled.

* * *

L's eyes snapped open. His breathing slowed as he focussed on the ceiling. He recognised it. Hospital wing. He licked his lips. They didn't taste of blood. He brought a hand slowly to his forehead. There was no pain in his arm, chest or head. There was a row of stitches in his forehead, down across his brow to his nose. Groggily, he tried to sit up. He was successful.

"Oh good, you're awake," a venomous voice exclaimed; its tone was soft and cold. In a moment of genius intelligence natural to L, the sound of the voice clicked everything into place in his brain. He knew who was behind the Muggle killings. But with a flash of despair, he also realised that he could tell nobody, not even Draco, otherwise the plan forming in his fantastic brain would never work.

L turned sharply and looked the killer in the eyes.

"I know you are the culprit and I will not rest until I have the evidence to condemn you to the Dementors," L told the murderer, flatly. A spark of emotion filled the killer's eyes but vanished quickly.

"That will never happen." The culprit, face emotionless, left without further words exchanged.

L flopped back onto his pillow. He might have fallen asleep but the next thing he knew was Draco's face appearing beside the bed and his heart doing a double-take. This must have brought colour to his cheeks or surprise to his eyes, because Draco smiled and looked away for a second. Then, their eyes met and words were said without being spoken. Emotion flooded L's brain in a way it never had before and he panicked, unsure of what to do with these feelings.

"I talked to a basilisk and fainted into my own vomit," L blurted, his eyes wide, pressing one finger to his bottom lip.

"That's disgusting," Draco replied, small lines appearing above his pointed nose.

"I know," nodded L. Draco shook his head and frowned. His lower lip pushed out, bringing to L the memory of how it felt to rip it with his teeth, the taste of Draco's blood ...

Before he could stop himself, L's hand was wrapped around the back of Draco's neck, pulling him down to the bed. At the same time, L sat up and tilted his head. This kiss was gentle, no teeth or blood; just lips moving together.

Draco sniffed as he sat back in his chair, wiping his eye.

"We were so worried about you."

"We?" Draco quizzed, sitting up properly so he could hunch over comfortably.

"Yeah. Me and the Slytherins. The Gryffindors too." He gestured towards the bedside table where there were several boxes of sweets and a stuffed lion toy wrapped in a minute green scarf. L smiled for the first time that day, but not for the last.

* * *

"I've been unconscious a week?" L gasped. It was hard to believe he'd missed that much time. What if more people had been killed? he had the knowledge to stop it. It would take more than a week, to be honest, but even so. The fact that his body had allowed him this much time out of the game disgusted him. "Has there been any more killings?"

"You're this intent on being a detective?" Draco chuckled. "You should be resting, not thinking about killings."

"Just tell me." Draco met L's determined stare with a shrug.

"Okay. There has been another attack on a Mudblood since the last incident, so your name is cleared, if that's what you're worried about."

It made sense, if the murderer knew that L knew the identity ... but who would be framed now?

"Dumbledore's ordered that no students go outside without an escort. So that's all the news for now," Draco concluded. "Do you realise it's the Yule Ball tonight? You'll be sleeping in Slytherin again."

L had not realised this, so the surprise showed on his face. He remembered his dream and started to turn pink.

"What?" Draco asked, his mouth turning up into a smile.

"Nothing," L lied. "Who are you taking to the Ball?" He had been hearing for weeks people asking each other to go to the Yule Ball. He gathered that it was the social convention.

"Nobody. I mean, I was going to ask you, since the whole school knows about us being ... you know." it was Draco's turn to go pink.

"What are you talking about?" L inquired, pressing a finger to his lip.

"Well that night in Gryffindor tower, people saw us, um ... " he gestured towards his mouth. The memory of the taste of blood filled L's mind. He nodded. "So it spread and spread and now rumour has it that we're together. Like, a couple."

"Are we?"

"No. I mean, I don't think so. I mean, do you want to be?"

"I don't know what the convention is with regards to this social situation, so no. But I will go to the Ball with you."

Draco looked away, smiling again, and not for the last time that day.

* * *

Sirius woke up a little later that day, having been unconscious just as long as L had. His eyes fell immediately onto the worried, tired face of his oldest friend, Remus. his face split into a grin, but he groaned as the scratches of the wounds on his face stretched.

"It's about time you woke up! You've had me worried sick, I can't believe you ... even ... you silly man! Why couldn't you just get out of the way like the rest of us?" the professor ranted. Sirius simply took hold of his hand and listened until he had calmed down, then said one word.

"Sorry."

Tears started to stream down Remus' face. He wiped them away hastily and thrust a box of Every Flavour Beans into his fiancé's hands. Wordlessly, Sirius ripped into the box, pulled out a handful and stuffed all of them into Remus' mouth. The look of surprise on his face was enough to make Sirius laugh heartily, which in turn made Remus smile, which caused Beans to shower onto the floor from his mouth. Remus moved a hand quickly to his mouth. By now, Sirius was almost crying with laughter.

L looked across from his bed to the other side of the room, where Professor Lupin was making Sirius laugh. It was such a joyful sound that L couldn't help but smile too. At the same time, it caused a pang in his chest as he missed Draco. He loved making Draco laugh like that, even if he didn't always mean to. Was that conventional for couples? Was that what he and Draco were becoming? Perhaps it was just a by-product of a strong friendship and nothing to do with love at all.

As soon as he'd thought the word, it started to work its way into his mind. Love. What was it? Maybe there were some questions best left unanswered for now, L decided.

Madame Pomfrey came bustling by his bed. She prodded him with her wand and looked into his pupils. She checked his stitches then told him he was free to go, and that Professor Dumbledore had requested he change then go to the Great Hall in time for the Yule Ball. With one last glance at the happy couple, who were now embracing warmly, L pushed himself up from his bed and started, for the first time (consciously, at least) in months, towards the Slytherin common room.

* * *

L breathed in the scent of the emerald green leather. It was good to be back in Slytherin. He didn't waste any time in getting clean clothes on - a long-sleeved white t-shirt and blue jeans, under his Hogwarts robes - but paused a minute to look at his bed. It was tidy and looked like it hadn't been slept on. L jumped onto it and lay flat on his back, his feet tucked under him so his knees were pointing to the ceiling. He knew he probably wouldn't ever sleep well, but he felt comfortable to lay on this bed. It was a consistency in his life, which - before Hogwarts, anyway - had always been inconsistent.

He considered this for a few moments. Draco was a consistency in his life. He had been there for four years now, but that friendship was changing. Draco was changing. Maybe the Gryffindors, Hermione and the others, maybe they would become a consistency. Than L's train of thought took a detour through the reasons why consistencies were important in the life of a young person, then he began to think about what he'd do after he'd finished at Hogwarts. This in turn lead to him thinking about life before Hogwarts. Was he going to get back to Wammy's, back to where he should be? But was this where he should be?

L's eyes snapped open. He had fallen asleep after all. A quick glance at the window told him the sun was setting and he needed to get up to the Great Hall.

Walking as quickly as he could without pushing himself too far, L made his way out of the dungeons to the Great Hall. From within he could hear music: the Ball had already started. As he was about to push the door open, someone else pulled it from the other side. It was Professor McGonagall.

"Mr Lawliet!" she exclaimed, "I was just coming to find you. I wanted to tell you that the result for your Animagus exam came through." She thrust a sealed envelope at him. L held it delicately between thumb and finger and slid it open. The parchment fell out into his other hand. He held this up and read it rapidly.

"I passed," he declared. He kept his face blank but inside felt the satisfied buzz of doing something correctly. It had been the only possible outcome, with L's brilliance and aptitude for almost everything, though. He handed the letter to the Professor, who read it herself for confirmation.

"Very well. We'll begin your classes when the new term begins." She gestured for him to enter the Great Hall, which he did.

* * *

L felt himself tense as he approached the centre of the room. The Triwizard Champions were dancing with their partners while everyone stood and watched. Cedric Diggory was dancing with his Asian girl. Victor Krum was dancing with Pansy Parkinson. The French girl was dancing with someone L didn't recognise. He scanned the crowd for a blond head, but to no avail. He perched on a bench beside Hermione, who was watching one of the dancing couples with an odd expression.

L followed her gaze and watched Krum spinning Pansy around the room. He found his mind fading into a mesmerised trance, the music continuously swaying in the background. Hermione's scent trickled into his nose. She smelled like strawberry shampoo ...

A pair of arms folded themselves around L's middle. His first instinct was that he was being attacked. He spun round, his palm tucking straight under the chin of the attacker, his foot pressed against the attacker's stomach. Without the recognition and relief that came from seeing the familiar pointed, drawn face, L would have paralysed Draco in seconds.

L burst out laughing at the shocked expression on his friend's face. "Sorry Draco, it was a reflex."

"For God's sake man," Draco huffed, pulling L into a hug. The music ended, and a smattering of applause rippled round the room. Hermione and the Gryffindors turned away from the dance floor, noticing L and Draco for the first time. Hugs were shared, and Draco slipped away to talk to Pansy.

"Hey L," Harry began, "I know it's ages away, but how would you feel about spending the summer with us? We're all staying at my parents' place in the country and it's where the wedding's going to be, and we'd all love it if you came and stayed with us. We'll understand if you'd rather stay with the Malfoys."

"I wouldn't. Nasty lot, the Malfoys," Ron blurted. Hermione elbowed him in the ribs.

L nodded, his face settling into its blank mask. "I will come and stay with you. I need a change from the Malfoy mansion."

The group exchanged whoops and high-fives. They split off to go and dance. L perched back on his bench, uneasy in this social situation. Draco returned shortly, a drink in his hand, which he handed to L.

"I hate dancing," Draco stated, looking out across the crowd.

"Me too." L leaned on Draco's shoulder, inhaling chocolate and strawberry shampoo. They both turned to face each other. A few students stared, including Pansy Parkinson and Hermione Granger, the former looking uncomfortable, the latter simply smiling.

As L's eyes closed, the music faded away to almost nothing. He could hear Draco breathing and his own heartbeat. Then he could taste the punch Draco had just gulped down. More people turned to stare at the odd couple. Someone laughed. More people muttered to each other. A few people clapped and whistled.

L and Draco heard none of these. They were too absorbed in each other. L's mouth curled into a smile. He didn't realise now that this would be the last time he smiled today.


End file.
